GleeWarts
by classic06
Summary: So, this is my take on what would happen if the Glee characters had been born into the Hogwarts setting. Brittana. Unholy Trinity friendship. Starts in Year 1.
1. Year 1 Chapter 1

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>Chapter 1<p>

A young pair of dark eyes took in the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life going on outside of the black car she was currently seated in back of. A pitch black owl cooed beside her as she absentmindedly stroked its feathers. The noise of the city was always something Santana Lopez had loved. Growing up, when she was taken into the hub of the city on a shopping trip, accompanied by her nanny and her driver-and on the rare special occasion, her mother-she would make a game out of watching all the people around her, creating stories about what their lives were like and why they were in such hurries.

Her mother had never approved of such games, saying that she had no time for stories, but Santana could always count on her nanny and her driver to play along. That is, until her nanny had passed away, not one year prior.

Santana sighed as the car lurched forward once more—the light they had been waiting on finally having turned green—and pressed the button to roll her tinted window back up. There was no time for stories now, not when what was perhaps the biggest day of her life was upon her.

"Are we almost there, Brad?" Santana asked the driver of the car.

The normally somber man offered a hint of the smile that he kept reserved for the youngest member of the Lopez family through the rearview mirror, his black driver's hat casting a shadow over his bespectacled eyes, "No more than five minutes, Sanny."

Santana couldn't help but smile at the use of the nickname that all of the help at the Lopez Manor had adopted for her, but which was never uttered in front of her parents, especially not after her mother had fired her father's favorite cook for merely addressing her daughter by her first name instead of as Lady Santana Lopez.

"Are you nervous?" Brad asked before honking his horn loudly at a car that had just cut them off.

"What do I have to be nervous about?" Santana countered, coming to the decision that she was never going to get her license if it meant having to deal with all of the crazy people who believed they owned the road. "I am a Lopez. I am going to be placed in the Slytherin House. I am going to get top marks in all of my courses. I am going to make new acquaintances that will help to keep the family name at the top where it has always been. Everything has already been drawn out for me. There is nothing for me to worry about."

"Well, not that I would know, but it seems like the first day at Hogwarts would make even the most confident witch or wizard nervous," Brad replied.

It was true, he wouldn't know. Brad was a squib—a person exhibiting no magical powers who was born into a magical family. Even after finishing at a Muggle university and earning a degree, Brad still chose to be a part of the wizarding world over the Muggle one, despite the fact that squibs are severely looked down upon and nobody would offer him a job. Brad's older brother, however, had gone to Hogwarts and been close friends with Santana's dad. So, being in need of a driver, Lord Lopez did his classmate a favor and hired Brad despite his lack of magical abilities. At least, that was the story that Santana had been told, and it was a move by her father that she was extremely grateful for since, besides her nanny, Brad was the only true confidant she had ever had.

"Going to a new place and meeting new people is always nerve-wracking, don't you think?" Brad continued.

"If you don't know what to expect, maybe," Santana allowed with a shrug.

"Can one ever truly know what to expect?"

Santana grinned. These types of verbal debates with Brad were something she had always treasured. They never failed to push her and make her think. "I've been drilled countless times on what is expected of me."

"Ah, what is expected of _you_," he nodded. "But what about what is expected of others? And what if what is expected of others goes against what is expected of you?"

"Then I will just have to stand up taller and knock the others' expectations aside because mine is obviously what is going to come out on top."

"You have that Lopez drive, I see," Brad chuckled.

"Well, that would make sense, since I am a Lopez," Santana replied with a wry smile.

"Touché," Brad gave a deep laugh as he pulled the car into a parking space. He turned the vehicle off before hurrying out to open Santana's door for her. "Here, let me help you with that," he offered, holding out his hands to accept the cage containing her owl that she was gathering up.

"No," Santana replied quickly, earning a curious look from Brad. "No, it's alright," she tried again, more composed this time. "He seems a bit…flustered," she explained as the bird sat on its perch just as calm as ever. "I've been explaining to Blaine for weeks all about Hogwarts, and that there was nothing for him to worry about, but you know how birds are…So, I think it's best that I hang on to him. You know, to make sure he stays calm."

"Ah…"Brad nodding knowingly. "I think that's an excellent idea. I will get your bags then."

"Thank you, Brad," Santana nodded as she slid out of her seat, clenching the handle to Blaine's cage tightly in her hand. It was a bit heavy, and she had to lean a little towards one side in order to hold it up, but she wasn't about to complain after having made such a fuss over carrying it herself. Brad closed the door behind her before making his way over to the boot of the car and pulling out the rest of Santana's things.

They made their way into King's Cross Station, and Santana kept her gaze determinedly on what was directly in front of her. Now wasn't the time to be looking for interesting characters with stories to tell, now was the time for her to focus. She had a job to do. She had a name to uphold.

"After you," Brad motioned to the brick column before them that had the numbers 9 and 10 situated on either side of it.

Santana took a deep breath before lifting her head and straightening her shoulders.

"You know, they say it's best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous," Brad commented. "I mean, for Blaine's sake of course."

"I am a Lopez," Santana replied. "Lopez's never run to anyone or anything; _they_ always wait on _us_."

"You sounded eerily like your mother, just there…"

"Yes, well, my mother is a powerful woman. And so am I," she added with a nod before strolling through the barrier with confidence. "Come along, Brad," Santana stated calmly, her face set as her driver walked through the barrier now behind her, his own face back to its normal stoic state.

The station was crowded with children and teenagers itching to get away from their parents, and parents not quite ready to let go, but Santana had no trouble pushing her way through, coldly eyeing anyone who dared to protest. Up ahead, she noticed a set of square shoulders and a patch of thinning blonde hair that she instantly recognized, and she pushed through the crowd with even more vigor.

"Lord and Lady Fabray, how nice it is to see you," Santana announced her presence, causing the blonde man and his pretty wife to turn in her direction.

"Santana," Lady Fabray smiled, pulling her into a hug. "How are you dear? Aren't you just so excited about starting Hogwarts? I know Quinny, here, has been talking about it nonstop for weeks."

Santana smirked at the young blonde-haired girl standing across from her, knowing full well that if anyone had been talking excitedly about anything, it was Lady Fabray with her uncanny ability to put on a happy face at all times, while Quinn had probably merely nodded politely in response.

"Are your parents here today?" Lady Fabray asked, finally letting Santana out of the hug.

"No ma'am, it is just me today," she shook her head. She did not acknowledge Brad even though he was standing right beside them, because she knew that to the Fabrays, he was nothing more than furniture. "My father is working, and my mother is…well, she is busy keeping up the manor."

"And what a busy job that is," Lady Fabray nodded. "Why, just the other day, I was—"

But whatever she was doing, Santana never got to find out-not that she really cared anyway-because Lord Fabray cleared his throat and spoke up for the first time since Santana's arrival.

"It is time for the girls to board, Judy," he noted, checking his pocket watch.

"Oh, yes, yes, of course," his wife nodded, before pulling her daughter into a quick hug and kissing the top of her head. "Now, you have a good year, sweetheart."

"Yes, Mummy," Quinn replied.

"Make us proud," her father added, before kissing her as well.

"Of course, Daddy," Quinn smiled, earning a beaming grin in return, the likes of which seemed out of place on the man's face, at least in Santana's eyes.

"Have a good year, Santana," Lord Fabray clapped her on the shoulder.

"Yes, sir," Santana nodded before turning back to Brad to take her trunk from him. She wanted to say something, but her throat had suddenly decided to close entirely on its own accord as her eyes began to burn. She briefly wondered if she was allergic to the smoke the train next to them was huffing out. But even if she had had the ability to say something, she knew she couldn't, not in front of the Fabrays who believed that the only time one should address their servants was when giving orders.

Brad nodded, giving a tip of his hat and a discreet wink that was more than enough to satisfy Santana. She smiled back, and stood up even taller as he handed her the trunk. She followed Quinn onto the train and down the corridor until the blonde was able to find an empty compartment that was to her liking. They helped each other lift their trunks up onto the luggage rack above the window, before sitting down with a sigh. Santana had placed Blaine up with her luggage, not wanting Quinn to note her nervous hold of the cage, so now she was left with the question of what to do with her worrying hands.

"So, _Quinny_, how was your summer vacation?" Santana asked, drawing up her signature smirk. Teasing Quinn about her mother's doting ways always served as a good distraction.

"It is nice to see you as well, Santana," Quinn replied, her voice as soft as always.

Santana knew for a fact, though, that the gentleness of her voice was in no way a representation of her personality. The girls had known each other for years—having gone to primary school together, their families becoming fast 'friends'—and Santana knew that Quinn could be just as icy as she could, even more so at times.

"And if you call me that one more time, I'll make sure you lose all ability to speak ever again," Quinn continued, her voice just as pleasant.

Santana laughed, slapping her knee in a manner that she was sure her mother would scoff at. "Oh, Q, how I've missed you and your bitchy ways this summer."

Quinn broke into a small, but genuine smile, which Santana knew was more emotion than the girl had probably shown over the entire break, "And how I've missed you and your ability to lose all signs of your proper upbringing as soon as the adults are away."

Santana grinned. She knew they did not have the most normal of friendships. In fact, outsiders might even view what they had as the opposite of friendship seeing as they were both constantly clamoring for the same spot on top of the social ladder, but Santana knew otherwise. They both had an understanding of what it was like to come from parents of a certain power, and what it was like to be expected to not only fill their parents' shoes, but exceed them. It was that understanding that made Quinn Fabray the only person Santana had ever truly considered her friend.

"So how was your summer in France?" she asked, not really caring about the answer, but not quite ready to settle into silence for their long journey.

The loud grinding of metal could be heard, and the train gave a slow lurch forward. Quinn quickly stood up, her spine abnormally straight, as she searched the faces outside of the window for her parents. Santana figured she must have found them because the blonde raised her arm, waving her hand politely.

Santana didn't bother standing up as the train moved past the sea of faces waving goodbye to their children, grandchildren, or siblings. She knew there wouldn't be anyone there waving for her with Brad having to hurry back to be at her father's beck and call. As soon as they pulled out of the station, Quinn's shoulders fell and returned to their normally rounded state as she sat back down.

"Smelly," she finally replied with a wrinkle of her nose. "How was your summer in Spain?"

"Crowded," Santana gave a smile. "I swear every time we visit, my father's family has doubled in size."

"Nice change from the quiet Lopez manor?"

"Yes," she replied, before her mind drifted to the many cold baths she had been forced to take due to having to wait until it was her turn. "And at the same time, it made me even happier I am an only child."

"Lucky," Quinn frowned, smoothing the fabric of her cotton sundress unnecessarily. "What I wouldn't give to not have a perfect older sister to live up to."

"You love your sister," Santana reminded.

Quinn shrugged, clasping her hands neatly in her lap.

Santana rolled her eyes before stretching out on her seat, lying with her hands resting behind her head. She heard Quinn snort indignantly, and she just smirked in reply, knowing that at least half a dozen remarks having to do with Santana acting classless lay baited on the tip of the other girl's tongue. She also knew that Quinn was never one to pick a fight without reason, though, so the insults remained unspoken.

Santana closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the late summer sun coming in through their window start to lull her to sleep. Just as her last bit of active consciousness was waning away, the sound of the compartment door opening caused her to jerk awake. A Spanish curse was muttered under her breath as she sat up, rubbing her eyes, to find a tiny girl with blonde hair falling in waves all the way down her torso, walking backwards into the compartment, tugging her trunk with her. Her long socks that rose to above her knees were striped in multiple bright colors while her knit hat that sat precariously atop her head was decorated in rainbow stars.

"Excuse me?" Quinn spoke up softly.

"Oh, do you need to pass?" the intruder turned to her, her voice calmly slow, and her accent strong. "Is it motion sickness? My sister got motion sick one time on a trip to the beach. It took weeks before my mom could get the smell out of her car. The bathroom is that way I think," she continued, pointing vaguely over her shoulder.

"I don't need the lavatory," Quinn shook her head in agitation.

Santana had to suppress a giggle.

"Who said anything about chemistry?" the girl asked in confusion.

"I…huh?" was all Quinn could reply. "What are you talking about?"

Santana started to countdown the seconds in her head until Quinn lost her patience and politely went off on the girl for barging into their compartment without an invitation or even so much as a knock. She watched curiously as the girl proceeded to lift her trunk up and heave it onto the luggage rack without any assistance, despite being smaller than both of the other girls. Santana raised an eyebrow half out of surprise and half out of appreciation. She turned to Quinn to find her staring at the girl with calculating eyes and a growing smirk.

"I'm Brittany," the whimsical voice next to Santana made her jump. She had neither heard nor felt the intruder sit down next to her which completely unnerved her; at the Lopez manor, the servants always announced their presence when walking into a room, and nobody ever sat beside her without first asking permission. She turned towards the girl to find a pale hand outstretched towards her in greeting, a slightly sun-kissed nose that was dusted in light freckles, and a pair of bright blue eyes sparkling from excitement as they stared back at her.

Santana opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She turned to Quinn in exasperation, as if to ask, _who is this girl?_, but Quinn's attention was still focused on the intruder, a now Cheshire-like grin on her face.

"I am Quinn Fabray," Quinn stretched out her hand in greeting.

Brittany shook it enthusiastically.

"And my friend there who appears to be trying to catch flies in her mouth is Santana Lopez. Forgive her rudeness. Her parents tried their best, but…" Quinn motioned to Santana with an offhanded wave.

A tiny whine and the sound of nails against wood caused Santana's eyes to turn towards the luggage rack wearily.

"You seem to be an awful long way from home," Quinn noted. "Are you sure you're on the right train?"

"Is this not the Hogwarts Express?" Brittany questioned, her voice speeding up ever so slightly in panic. "I told my mom not to go through that barrier because nothing good ever came from walking through walls, but she didn't listen."

"No, no, you're on the right train," Quinn chuckled. "But what is an American doing going to Hogwarts?"

The scratching grew louder.

"Um…" Santana finally found her voice. "Are you going to get that?"

"Shoot," Brittany's eyes widened in remembrance as she swiftly stood up from the seat.

Santana leaned towards Quinn hastily, "What are you up to, Fabray?"

"She could be useful," Quinn shrugged.

Santana knew better than to argue with her over this because when it came to people and their uses, or rather, using people, nobody was more knowledgeable or more skillful than Quinn Fabray.

"And at the very least, she's entertaining," Quinn brought a hand up to cover a giggle.

Santana sat back up and followed her friend's line of sight over to Brittany who was now pulling herself up and onto the luggage rack in one fluid motion.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Brittany apologized quickly after opening her trunk and scooping something up into her hand. "Hey cool, an owl," she smiled at Blaine as she closed her trunk and re-latched it before using her free arm to swing down from the rack, landing lightly on her feet.

"He's mine," Santana informed, her gaze moving from the midnight feathered bird up near her trunk, down to the girl standing in front of her.

"He's really pretty, although, I don't think I've ever seen an owl with eyebrows before," Brittany noted thoughtfully as she sat back down next to Santana, only this time with a tiny, grey fur ball in her hand.

"What is that?" Santana questioned.

"It's my cat," Brittany beamed, pushing him towards Santana's face to give her a better look.

Santana quickly leaned away.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm more of a dog person…"

Brittany's nose wrinkled in confusion as she curled her feet up underneath her, "You look like more of a human person to me."

Santana couldn't help the amused smile she felt tugging at her lips.

"You locked your kitten in your trunk?" Quinn asked incredulously. To say she was a bit of an animal lover would have been a huge understatement.

"I fixed up my sweaters into a nice bed for him so he'd be comfortable," Brittany pulled the kitten back towards her, kissing the top of its head before hugging it protectively to her chest. "And I put his litter box in there in case he had to go."

"Why would you put a kitten in your trunk?" Quinn pressed, her eyes still wide with outrage, but her voice softening as she watched the girl coddle the tiny animal.

"It was the only way I could get him to Hogwarts," Brittany replied, as if that had been obvious.

Quinn waited for her to continue, but seemed to lose her patience, causing her to blurt out an exasperated, "_Why?_"

"Well, after my other cat, Charity, died, my parents agreed to get me another one, but only if I left it at home with them while I was away at school; they didn't trust me to take care of him on my own. So, I had to sneak him with me."

"Why didn't they trust you?" Quinn asked.

"I'm not sure," Brittany admitted. "They said I had a bad track record. But when I tried telling them I had never even joined the track team, they wouldn't listen."

"Um…Brittany…" Santana began carefully. "How exactly did your other cat pass away?"

Brittany shifted in her seat, her eyes falling to her lap, "I didn't feed him."

Quinn whimpered.

"It wasn't on purpose," Brittany insisted, looking back and forth between the two other girls desperately. "It's just that I'd never had a cat before, and the stuff in its litter box looked exactly like the stuff my cousin feeds her parakeet, so I figured, that's what the cat would eat."

Quinn shook her head as she muttered under her breath, her face falling into her hands.

"I really thought I was taking good care of him," Brittany turned to Santana pleadingly.

Santana nodded, patting the girl's shoulder gently, "We all make mistakes."

Quinn's murmurs stopped as she looked up at Santana in shock.

Santana glared back in response, letting her hand drop from Brittany's shoulder while Brittany was busy nuzzling her nose into the kitten's fur. So what if she had been uncharacteristically nice when dealing with a girl she didn't know? She had enough on her mind with her impending arrival and expected take over at a school she had never even stepped foot into, and she would have never been able to settle her thoughts if Brittany had continued to look at her with those sad blue eyes the entire journey. She had done it for selfish reasons, really.


	2. Year 1 Chapter 2

+++Chapter 2+++

When the train had finally pulled to a stop, its occupants now all dressed in their school robes (Thanks, in large part, to a pint-sized brunette that went around informing each compartment that, "They would be arriving at their destination shortly, and it would be appropriate if everyone began to adorn themselves with their robes so as to not delay the feast that would most surely be awaiting them." Santana started to tell the girl, that was already dressed in her own robes which appeared to be ironed and re-ironed, just what she could adorn herself with when Brittany distracted her by scurrying back onto the luggage rack and diving headfirst into her trunk excitedly) Quinn was still shooting Brittany her infamous icy glares every now and then, but she had at least stopped shaking her head and muttering the word 'murderer' over and over again.

"So, why are you coming to Hogwarts?" Santana asked Brittany curiously as they pulled the luggage down from the rack. She was actually rather thankful to have the odd girl with them to keep her company during the ride, since Quinn had decided to go into full Ice Queen mode.

"Because I'm a wizard," Brittany beamed proudly.

"You're a witch," Quinn corrected agitatedly.

"What's the difference?"

Quinn groaned, "Santana, grab your trunk and let's go."

Santana narrowed her eyes at her in warning before turning back to Brittany, "Wizards are boys; witches are girls, duh."

"But I want to be a wizard," Brittany's bottom lip fell into a soft pout.

"I can't…" Quinn rolled her eyes before walking haughtily out of the compartment and into the mill of people trying to exit the train.

Santana's eyes turned upwards as she whispered a prayer in Spanish, asking for strength. It was the one she had heard her nanny mutter on countless occasions during her childhood when Santana's rather _precocious_side would show itself. She turned back to Brittany to find her pout had deepened.

"Is she mad at me?" Brittany asked, her eyes a mixture of sadness and confusion.

"No, she's just…Quinn gets into these moods sometimes; it isn't your fault," Santana found herself reassuring the other girl, because frankly, she gave a more pitiful set of puppy dog eyes than any actual puppy Santana had ever seen. "Come on, we better catch up with Quinn before she bites some poor kid's head off. It would suck if I wasn't there to be able to laugh at it."

Brittany nodded, stepping aside to let Santana pass and lead the way out of the compartment and off of the train. Once they reached the platform, Santana pushed up on her toes to try and scan through the crowd. When her eyes finally landed on her friend, she couldn't help but laugh; Quinn had already managed to find a tall, gangly boy to pull her trunk for her.

This was it, Santana decided as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. The time for her to start making her mark was now. She stepped towards the pair of them with a smirk in place, "Hey Q, what's with Sasquatch?"

The boy wiped his leaking nose with the back of his hand before stretching it out for her to shake, "Finn Hudson."

"That's disgusting," Santana replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Brittany S. Pierce," Brittany greeted him, shaking his hand with enthusiasm from beside Santana. "Are you a first year, too?"

"Yep, sure am," he grinned goofily.

"Turns out Finn, here, grew up on farm land that my daddy owns," Quinn explained.

"A farm?" Santana couldn't help but laugh. Sometimes, it was just too easy. "What? Were your parents so poor they had to feed you fertilizer or something?"

Brittany giggled.

"Santana…" Quinn admonished, though she was unable to keep a small smile from her lips.

"He's freakishly tall," Santana pointed out.

"Finn has been nice enough to agree to carry my trunk for me."

"She said it was my duty…or something…" Finn replied unsurely.

Santana chuckled to herself, looked like Quinn had found herself a new person to use. At least that meant she had forgotten about Brittany and her unfortunate cat disposal for the time being.

"It is," Quinn nodded reassuringly at him. "Men are supposed to carry the things that women are too delicate for."

Finn stood up straighter, and Santana figured it was the first time someone other than the kid's mom had called him a man. She shook her head; Quinn definitely had the art of using people down to a science, and this Finn kid was just her latest experiment.

+++GW+++

"How much further?" Santana grumbled as they trudged through the mud that covered the grounds from the afternoon rains. Her shoes made a disgusting squelching sound as she pried them from the wet field with each step she took."Why couldn't we go with the older kids? I bet they are already inside, dry and eating their fill."

"I smell water," Brittany commented, standing up taller to try to see over the crowd of first years as they came to a stop. Santana followed suit, realizing that no matter how much Brittany stretched, she would never be able to see anything from her height. Even with her advantage of a couple of inches, though, Santana was unable to see past a couple of rows of students, let alone to the front of the group and the reason for their sodden halt.

"They do this every year," a voice next to Santana piped up. "I think it is a wonderful way to flaunt the property to all of us new students, don't you?"

She turned to find the short brunette from the train standing next to her, and she felt a rumble emanating from deep in her throat.

"Nobody asked you, Elf," Quinn replied, her hazel eyes sparking.

The girl squeaked in surprise.

"Run along," Santana motioned with her fingers, watching as she scurried off. "Quinn, can't your troll do something useful with his height and see what the holdup is?"

"It's too dark," Finn shook his head. "I can't see that far."

"Oh hell no!" a voice at the front of the group declared.

"Alright, that's it, Santana Lopez does not wait in the back," Santana declared before pushing her way to the front of the crowd, feeling the rest of their small group following behind. Once there, she discovered a large lake lying in front of them with dozens of tiny wooden canoes, barely big enough for two, tethered to the shore.

"There's no way I'm getting in one of those things," the owner of the voice continued.  
>Santana looked to find a round black girl, arguing with a man large enough to make even Finn look miniature, and covered in clothing that looked and smelled as if it had been freshly taken from some sort of carcass.<p>

"But, uh…you…you have to," the large man replied unsurely. "We do this every year with the first years."

"Do you know what that water is going to do to my hair?" the girl demanded, a hand on her hip.

Santana couldn't help but think the girl's hair couldn't get any worse from its current state of tight curls that were standing on end and going in whichever direction they so pleased, but she didn't say anything because she was definitely in agreement with her on this debate.

"But your hair won't even be getting wet," the man tried, his voice downtrodden. "You'll be in a boat."

"You call that rinky dink thing a boat?"

"I'm with curly fries on this one," Santana nodded. "I am not going to get into one of those sad excuses for water transportation and row myself across a lake filled with God knows what. And who knows the last time that water's even been cleaned."

There was a chorus of "Yea's!" behind her, and Santana crossed her arms over her chest with a smirk. They weren't even inside yet, and she already had the support of the people.

"Well…er…" the man fumbled. "Nobody's ever refused to go across the lake before."

"One time I refused to take a bath for a week because I was afraid of getting sucked down the drain," Brittany commented thoughtfully.

"What happened?" Finn asked curiously.

"My mom eventually caught me and put me in the tub herself, promising that if I took a bath, I'd get a creamsicle, and that if I did get sucked down the drain, I'd never have to take a bath again."

"Did you?"

"No," Brittany replied sadly. "Now I have to bathe every night."

"Man, that sucks…"

Santana hadn't heard a word of their conversation, though, because she was too focused on the smile on the large man's round face that told her Brittany had said too much. Next thing she knew, she was being lifted off the ground and placed into one of the small boats, her arms still firmly crossed as Brittany scrambled to the front of the boat to give her more room.

"I'm still not rowing," Santana declared.

"You don't have to," the man replied with a huff, before pushing their boat off of the shore with ease.

"It stinks here," Santana grumbled, as the tiny vessel started to slowly move, entirely on its own accord, towards the large castle looming in front of them.

"Santana, look, isn't it beautiful?" Brittany sighed, kneeling precariously on her seat to be able to look out over the water.

"Be careful," Santana instructed holding on to the sides of the boat with both hands as it started to rock when Brittany leaned forward even further. "It's not steady."

"I think I see Nemo!" Brittany gasped excitedly, her entire upper body now hanging over the edge of the boat.

"Brittany, please," Santana urged. "There could be some really dangerous things in there."

"Like sharks?" Brittany sat back quickly.

Santana's hands gripped the sides tighter, her knuckles turning white, "Worse than sharks."

"What could be worse than a shark?" Brittany asked, her eyes turning curious before she leaned back over the edge to attempt to see for herself.

Santana groaned, "Just please, sit down, and I'll tell you all about them."

"Look, there's Nemo again; I think I can reach him!" Brittany stretched even further, and before Santana could jump up to catch her, the curious blonde had plunged head first into the water.

"Brittany!" Santana yelled, searching the opaque lake for any signs of her. She mentally started to tick off the seconds Brittany had been under water, continuing to shout her name, as her heart beat grew louder with each tick. Once she reached ten, Santana kicked off her shoes and shrugged off her robe, leaving her in her pleated skirt and button down shirt, before jumping into the water herself. She turned all about, searching for any sign of the preternatural girl, but it was even darker underwater than above, and she was forced to kick back to the surface to refill her lungs with air.

"Over there!" she heard Finn point out from him and Quinn's boat, and she followed his finger to the small set of waves and bubbles that were all rising from the same point some ten yards to her left. Santana quickly swam over and dove back under, finding Brittany struggling frantically, her robes tangling themselves around her limbs and weighing her down. Santana waved her arms to get the girl's attention, and Brittany looked up at her, blue eyes—bright even under water—gaping in fear.

Santana moved towards her, quickly working her fingers at the tiny knot that held her robes in place. She finally got it undone, and tore the robes away from around Brittany's shoulders, allowing the item of clothing to sink towards the bottom of the lake, before wrapping a strong arm around her and kicking towards the surface as hard as she could. She dared not think about the fact that Brittany had no longer been struggling the last few seconds before Santana freed her, or about how the smaller girl's head was now resting heavily on Santana's shoulder, air bubbles no longer coming from her mouth or nose. All she could think about was keeping a tight grip on the body next to her, and kicking harder than she had ever kicked in her life.

When they finally broke the surface, Santana gulped at the air greedily, her lungs screaming inside her chest. She re-secured her arm around Brittany while struggling to keep the both of them afloat by merely treading water—Brittany's body was dead weight in her arms; her eyes were closed, and her head was limp. Santana brought her free hand up, slapping Brittany's cheek repeatedly.

"Brittany, Brittany, wake up…Brittany, please, you have to wake up…Open your eyes, come on, please, open your eyes," Santana begged.

With a sputter, Brittany coughed up a lung full of lake water, her body jerking to life in Santana's arms and her eyes opening wide in alarm. It was at that moment that Santana decided blue was her new favorite color.

"It's ok…you're ok…" Santana assured with a sniff. The water dripping from her hair was causing her eyes to burn.

"Santana! Over here!" Finn called out.

Santana looked up to find Finn outstretching his long arm towards them from his boat, as Quinn held their boat for them along the side of her and Finn's own. She looked around and for the first time noticed the crowd of tiny boats that had gathered around them.

"Come on, Brittany," Santana readjusted her hold on her. "You need to help me swim to the boat."

She didn't get a verbal answer, but she could feel one of Brittany's legs brushing against her own every now and then as she kicked, helping to propel them towards Finn's hand. When they finally reached it, Santana reached out with her free arm, and Finn grabbed it, tugging them to the side of his boat. She grabbed onto the edge, after helping Brittany to do the same, and rested her head against the cool hull, catching her breath.

"Oh man, that was brilliant!" Finn cheered excitedly. "We saw Brittany fall in, and we didn't know what was going on, but then you just dove in right after her. Talk about guts."

Once Santana was finally able to somewhat control her breathing, she turned to the girl floating alongside her, realizing she had not uttered a single word since Santana pulled her above water. "Hey, are you okay?"

Brittany's eyes slowly moved back and forth as she took in their surroundings before she finally opened her mouth to speak, "Does this count as my bath for today?"

Santana closed her eyes, suddenly feeling dizzy with relief.

Finn chuckled as he reached down to grab Santana's arms to help pull her into the boat.

"Help her," Santana pushed him away. "I'm ok, just help her. She should sit."

Finn nodded as he took a step to the side and hauled Brittany into the boat before handing her over to Quinn who helped her carefully step across into their neglected boat that she was still holding for them.

Santana pulled herself up, allowing her body to fall over the side and into the boat, causing it to rock treacherously.

"I would've helped you," Finn noted, moving to help her sit up.

"A little late for your help," she replied, shrugging off his hand and slowly standing back up.

Quinn placed a gentle hand under her elbow, and Santana stepped across to her own boat.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked, continuing to hold onto her elbow.

Santana smiled softly at the look of concern in the hazel eyes staring back at her, "Yea, I'm okay."

Quinn nodded and dropped her hand before sitting down back down as Finn pushed the two boats apart. He waved at them, and Santana rolled her eyes as she settled back into the tiny boat. She slipped her shoes back on and gathered up her robes before looking up to find Brittany shivering in the front seat.

"Hey," Santana said carefully.

Brittany looked back with a sheepish smile.

Santana held open her robes, and Brittany's smile widened as she slowly slid to the floor of the boat, meeting her in the middle. Santana opened her robes wide, draping them over both of their shoulders.

"You saved my life," Brittany finally spoke up after an initial silence.

"Don't worry about it," Santana replied, shivering, herself, despite the added warmth of the robes.

Brittany nodded, watching Santana closely before scooting even closer until their sides were pressed together.

Santana soon felt her side and then the rest of her body start to gradually warm up, and she struggled with words as she realized what the blonde had just done. Maybe the girl wasn't so clueless after all.

"Thanks," Santana mumbled after clearing her throat.

"Don't worry about it," Brittany smiled.

The group of young wizards stood gathered together in front of a set of enormous doors. Santana stood next to Brittany, still sharing her robe, the warmth of the castle no match for their wet clothes. The mere idea of the food that would no doubted be waiting for them on the other side of the doors was enough to make Santana's mouth water and stomach grumble.

"How much longer are we gonna have to wait here?" a boy with round cheeks complained from beside Brittany.

"I don't know, but any longer and your fat ass is going to start to look even more like bacon than it already does, Karofsky," a tan boy next to him replied.

"Shut up, Puckerman," Karofsky countered, shoving him with both of his hands. "Aren't you not supposed to eat pig, anyway?"

"Don't start with me," Puckerman shoved him back, but Karofsky remained rooted in his spot as if the smaller boy had never even touched him.

Karofsky laughed, pushing him again, causing him to stumble backwards, "Or what?"

"Whoa, whoa," Finn quickly stepped between the two, easily towering over both of them.

"Boys," an exasperated voice sighed from behind Santana, making her cringe. It was the miniature brunette. "One would think that they would want to be putting their best foot forward on their very first night at Hogwarts, but clearly the words 'think' and 'boys' should never be uttered in the same sentence. Am I right, girls?"

Quinn glanced back over her shoulder from the other side of Santana before leaning towards her friend, "Is this girl serious?"

Santana shrugged helplessly, before the sound of footsteps caused the pair of them to stand up straighter. A tall woman with long blonde hair made her way around the group of students to stand just in front of the set of doors. The overgrown man from before stopped a few paces short, clearly not wanting to take the lead of the group again. Santana glared at him; he was the reason she was currently cold, wet, and smelling like lake water.

The woman glanced at Santana and Brittany curiously before turning to the giant of a man, "What happened here, Howard?"

"They fell in," he shrugged.

"They fell in," she repeated, seeming to be waiting for more. When it was clear that his explanation would not be expanded upon, she turned back to the two girls with a smile. "Well, let's see what we can do about that, hmm?"

The woman pulled out her wand from inside her robes and the crowd of children buzzed with the excitement of seeing their first spell performed at Hogwarts. She didn't speak any words, but instead waved her wand in a seemingly carefree, yet complex manner. When her movements ceased and her wand pointed at Santana, a jet of hot air burst out of the tip, instantaneously drying her clothes as it passed over her. The woman moved her wand to Brittany next with the same result.

Santana had to remind herself to not get caught up with the energy of the crowd and let her jaw hang open in amazement. She was a witch, a pureblood witch that had grown up around magic her entire life. If people saw her geek out over something as simple as a hot-air charm, then they would think that she was just as clueless as the rest of them. She had to appear unfazed and collected. She had to appear not only as if she had seen that spell performed before—which she had—but as if she, herself, could perform it in her sleep. She had to appear knowledgeable, and she had to appear powerful, because like her mother told her, knowledge and power cause fear in others, and people follow you best when they are afraid.

The heavy creaking of the enormous doors being opened ripped Santana from her thoughts. She had completely missed the woman's speech she had given after helping them to dry off. She turned to Quinn to find her already a few steps ahead of her, head held high as she followed the woman into the great hall.

"Come on," Brittany urged excitedly, reaching back for Santana. "Professor Holiday said it's time to be sorted into our houses."

Santana took a couple hurried steps to catch up before realizing what she was doing. She immediately slowed down and straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She kept her eyes focused straight in front of her, so she wouldn't be tempted to grin stupidly at their surroundings like Finn Hudson was currently doing.

"What do you think they do about the bird poop?" Brittany asked curiously.

Santana turned to her in confusion to find her staring up at the ceiling in wonder. She looked up to find a beautiful view of the night sky where the ceiling of the great hall should have been, "That's actually a good question."

"It isn't the actual sky," the short brunette chuckled matter-of-factly. "It is only charmed to look like the sky. But of course, I am sure you two already knew that, assuming you have ready Hogwarts: A History."

Brittany's face fell into small frown.

Santana rounded on the nosey girl as the group came to a stop before the large table at the front of the hall, "Have you ever heard the riddle about if a tree falls in an empty forest, does it make a sound?"

"Yes, but of course it would still make a—" she began, but Santana cut her off.

"Well, here's another one for you. If I were to punch an annoying loud mouth, would anybody care?"

The girl quickly clamped her mouth shut as the people around them stifled their laughter.

Santana smiled smugly before turning back to find Brittany staring at the ceiling once more, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Was she being serious?" Brittany asked, disappointment lacing her voice. "Is it really not the real sky?"

Santana looked up at the ceiling, knowing that the short girl had been right and that she had been foolish to once again get caught up in the magic. Still, though, the way the stars twinkled brightly above them reminded her of the days when she was younger and her parents would take her to their house in the country for an escape from the city and from work and from all the hassles of everyday life. At night, after dinner, her father would take her outside where they would stretch out on a blanket, and he would point out pictures in the stars, telling her the stories behind each of them. They had not gone to the country in a few years, though, not since Santana's mother had deemed it time for her to stop running around outside and tumbling about in the soft grass—even if she were only allowed to do so when they were out in the country, far away from prying eyes—and start acting like the proper young lady their money and titles entailed she be.

"It looks real to me," Santana replied honestly, yet without actually answering the question. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Brittany's face light up with a wide smile.

"It's beautiful…" she whispered.

Santana nodded in agreement as she stared up at the stars twinkling above them, trying to remember some of the constellations her father had taught her. An expecting quiet fell over the Grand Hall, and Santana's eyes fell forward as the blonde woman from earlier placed a stool adorned with a raggedy looking witches hat before the group of first years. The hat wiggled, a layer of dust escaping puffing outwards from the surface as a large seam at the brim of the hat opened, revealing a mouth.

_The Sorting Hat_, Santana drew in a deep breath, standing up taller. This was it. This was the moment her parents had been preparing her for. It was time for her to step up and take her rightful place into the Slytherin House. Her jaw tightened as her mind ran over all the properties her mother had preached: honor, power, strength, and most importantly, blood. Her blood. She was a legacy. Her parents were Slytherin. Their parents were Slytherin. Their parents were Slytherin. There was not a single Lopez or Black—her mother's family name—that had entered the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry who hadn't been sorted into the Slytherin House, at least not one who hadn't been disowned.

Santana's eyes narrowed as they took in the weathered hat that sat tattered and torn on the simple wooden stool, the hat's brim opening and closing quickly as it spoke words that weren't reaching her ears, her mind too full of its own thoughts to comprehend anything else. Her mouth's edges dropped into a scowl as her gaze moved across its frayed seams. What could a hat, a simple collection of material and thread, have done to make it so important, to make its word so consummate as to hold the ability to either catapult or ruin everything not just Santana, but her entire family had been working towards long before she was even born, with a single word? Who in their right mind had given this poorly sewn—

"Abrams, Artie," Professor Holiday's voice rang out loud and clear, causing Santana to blink several times in order for her head to escape its thoughts and catch up to the present: the sorting ceremony. She must have completely missed the Sorting Hat's song during her reverie, as they were now moving on to the actual sorting itself.

The small crowd of first years moved about to allow the poor kid whose name had come first in the alphabet through. Beside her, Brittany drew in a gasp and stepped closer to Santana's side.

"I didn't know they let robots in here," Brittany whispered, her voice shaky with fear.

Santana's eyes darted to the front of the crowd where a tiny bespectacled boy was coming to a halt in his wheelchair. He eyed the steps before him that led up to the stool where the Sorting Hat lay wearily.

"I guess we'll just have to come to you," Professor Holiday chuckled, as she picked the stool back up and carried it down the stairs. She placed the stool back down and lifted the Sorting Hat up, placing it on the young boy's dark hair, nearly knocking off his thick glasses.

The hat's mouth pursed and garbled before its voice rang out strong and sure, loud enough for the entire Grand Hall, and perhaps even the entire grounds to hear, "Ravenclaw!"

The boy beamed at the loud applause that waited for him as he wheeled his way towards his new table.

Professor Holiday brought the stool back up to its original spot and read the next name off of the list of first years, "Berry, Rachel."

"Present," an annoying voice piped up, as the grating brunette from earlier pushed her way to the front of the hall, sitting proudly on top of the stool. She glanced up at Professor Holiday expectantly. "Well…"

"Okay then," Professor Holiday gave a confused nod before placing the Sorting Hat on the girl's head.

Rachel's eyes immediately screwed up tightly closed in concentration, her mouth moving as if she were whispering some sort of silent mantra.

"Slytherin!"

"Oh bloody hell," Santana groaned loudly, as Rachel shook off the brief moment of confusion that passed over her features after the name of her new home for the next seven years had been announced and replaced it with a beaming smile as she raced towards the Slytherin table excitedly.

"Good luck with that," Quinn nearly laughed out loud in a very un-Quinn-like fashion.

"I already have plans to stuff a sock in her mouth and a pillow over her nose while she sleeps," Santana grumbled.

"I have duct tape you can borrow," Brittany offered. "No use wasting a good pair of socks."

Santana snorted out a giggle as Quinn gave Brittany a look of appraisal.

Next a 'Chang, Mike' and a 'Cohen-Chang, Tina'—no relation—were both sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Because that isn't racist at all…" Puckerman noted under his breath from behind Quinn.

"Fabray, Quinn," Professor Holiday called out, and Santana felt the taller of the two blondes flanking her freeze.

Santana swallowed, having the urge to reach out and offer her something, an encouraging word, a comforting squeeze of the arm, something, but she knew she couldn't. Any offer of advocacy would just seem like a weakness on Quinn's part, and she knew that Quinn would never forgive her for making her look weak because Santana would do the same if their roles were reversed. There was never a time for public weakness in one's fight for power.

Quinn straightened up, a cool exterior quickly sliding across her visage as she walked up towards the stool. She carefully turned and sat down with as much etiquette as possible as the long robes and tall stool allowed. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head, and Quinn drew in a deep breath.

Santana struggled inwardly with deciding between admiration and jealousy for a way to feel towards the calm way Quinn was currently sitting before everyone as the Sorting Hat decided her fate.

"What do you think she's thinking about?" Brittany whispered beside her.

"Thinking about?" Santana asked.

"Yea, she is stressing over something."

"Quinn Fabray? Stressing? Are you blind?"

"Are you?" Brittany retorted. "The corners of her eyes and mouth are tense. The wrinkles on the inside of her eyebrows aren't normally found on someone our age, and weren't there a moment ago which means she's concentrating."

Santana's mouth opened in surprise. How could someone who had only known Quinn for an afternoon been able to see right through her façade, even more so than she, herself, had been able to when she had known Quinn for her entire childhood? She was almost in enough of a shock to miss the house name that was being shouted from the hat's lips. Almost.

"Slytherin!"

While Santana had completely missed the inner turmoil Quinn had been going through moments prior, she was sure she would never forget the look of pure terror that flashed in her friend's eyes in the brief second before she was able to collect herself and re-gather her façade from seconds before. Santana felt sick. She was sure she was going to throw up. It didn't make any sense. If someone like Quinn Fabray, who appeared to be the person Godric Gryffindor, himself, had modeled his house after, could be sorted into the wrong house, then how was she supposed to hope to be sorted into the correct one?

Santana felt her heart start to pound inside of her chest. The sound of it filled her ears completely, drowning out the sound of Hudson, Finn being sorted into Hufflepuff while Hummel, Kurt became the first to be sorted into Gryffindor, unknowingly taking Quinn's rightful place at the table that lay beneath banners of red and gold. A Ben Israel, Jacob was sorted into Ravenclaw, and Santana resurfaced from her thoughts just in time to see Jones, Mercedes—the boisterous girl from the lake—being sorted into Gryffindor. Karofsky, David was sorted into Slytherin, and Santana wondered if anyone had ever actually thrown up during the sorting ceremony before.

"Lopez, Santana," Professor Holiday's voice caused Santana's stomach to lurch.

"Don't worry," Brittany clasped her hand tightly for the briefest of seconds. "I'm not sure how you win this thing, but I am sure you'll totally be the best at it."

Santana nodded as she straightened herself up and made her way towards the simple wooden stool that sat in front of the entire Grand Hall. It took everything in her power not to let her knees buckle as she climbed up towards Professor Holiday's patient smile, step by step. Santana took in a slow breath, her eyes stealing as she turned and sat down on the stool, the look of total poise in front of her entire student body. The worn out hat was placed atop her head, and Santana's jaw clenched as her driving thoughts took over before the hat could even utter a single sound.

_Slytherin, it has to be Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Please, God, make it Slytherin. It can't be anything else. It has to be Slytherin_, Santana thought to herself.

_To say you lot are an opinionated bunch would be the understatement of the century_, the Sorting Hat's voice echoed throughout her mind.

_Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin_, Santana repeated to herself over and over again, unable to even try to think in complete sentences anymore. She had never been more afraid in her entire life than she was in that moment, and all she could think of was the single word that would make all that fear go away.

_Are you sure? Because, I actually think that—_

_Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin._

_Alright then, better be…_"Slytherin!"

The house to Santana's far right erupted in its loudest applause of the night, and Santana felt the fear completely wash away, replaced by her normal countenance of confidence. She shrugged, offering a smirk to the remaining first years gathered in front of her as she hopped off of the stool and made her way as casually as she could over to the Slytherin table while on the inside, she was really dying to run towards it, screaming at the top of her lungs in happiness.

By the time she sat down and a kid with the first name of Azimio and a last name that she didn't catch had also been sorted into Slytherin, Santana couldn't even remember what she had been so afraid of in the first place. She was a Lopez, after all, and a Lopez would not be a Lopez without being sorted into Slytherin. She looked up from the empty golden plate before her as her stomach growled in hunger, completely void of any signs of nausea now that she was sorted into her rightful house, and she was reminded as to why she had been so nervous when the sight of Quinn sitting across from her at the Slytherin table greeted her. Santana's jaw tensed with all the words she wanted to say, but once again, knew she couldn't.

Despite her rigidly straight spine and her expressionless face, Santana could tell the other girl was currently going through hell. Her fair complexion had bypassed pale and was bordering on blanched, and the look of fear from before had left its trail in her clear, hazel eyes.

"You know," Rachel's voice started up from beside Santana. "I had always pictured myself as a Brave Gryffindor, or even a Wise Ravenclaw, but when I told the hat just how badly I wanted to be a star and how I was willing to stop at nothing until my stardom was reached, it seemed dead certain that Slytherin was the place for me. And if this is the place that is going to help me make it, then I am so excited to be that much closer to achieving my dream now that I am here."

Professor Holiday's voice reciting, "Pierce, Brittany" was the only thing that kept Santana from drop kicking Rachel right then and there. Instead, Santana sat up straighter, her head turning curiously as she watched the agile blonde skip up the steps before turning and jumping onto the stool in one fluid motion. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head, and it fell down, over her ears, nearly engulfing her entire head. Professor Holiday adjusted it for her, and Brittany just gave a lopsided grin in reply before mouth twisted in concentration as her eyes closed and her nose scrunched.

Santana's head tilted as time passed, and the hat remained silent. Next to her, the boy named Karofsky coughed and scratched his arm as a fidgety silence filled the hall. More time passed, and Professor Holiday squatted down so that she was eye level with Brittany, whispering something. Brittany opened one eye, nodded her head in reply, and reclosed her eye.

"Has a sorting ever lasted this long?" Rachel whispered to the upperclassmen seated down the table.

"Not as long as I've been here," a blonde boy shook his head. "And I'm a fifth year."

"Odd," Rachel muttered. "Ow!"

Several heads turned their way as Santana drew her elbow away from Rachel's ribcage and back towards her own side. "Sorry," Santana smirked at her. "Tourette's."

Rachel frowned, rubbing her side.

Santana turned back to the sorting just in time to see the hat's mouth opening wide, shouting, "Gryffindor!"

Brittany sat on the chair, looking over at the Slytherin table in confusion before shrugging and hopping down, making her way over to the applauding students of Gryffindor.

"Looks like you have to find yourself a new, new best friend," Quinn muttered from across the table.

Santana shrugged despite the sinking feeling in her stomach, "It was interesting while it lasted."

"A real hoot an' holler," Quinn rolled her eyes.

Santana resisted the urge to kick her beneath the table because she could only imagine what all was going through Quinn's mind. The thought of having to write home and tell her parents she had been sorted into a house other than Slytherin, and not just any house, but Slytherin's very rival, was enough to make Santana want to throw up right there on the Slytherin table in front of the entire school. She tried her best to keep the sympathetic look she felt creeping up away as she watched Quinn sit with her hands clasped and her eyes downcast, her bottom lip worrying through her teeth, clearly lost in thought, but Santana knew she wasn't doing a very good job at it. More children were sorted. Puckerman, Noah joined Finn in Hufflepuff. A round boy who tripped walking up the stairs made his way into Gryffindor along with Rutherford, Matt. A set of twins, one boy and one girl, were sorted into Hufflepuff. And eventually a Zises, Lauren was sorted into Slytherin, finishing off the class of first years.

"Now can we eat?" Karofsky grumbled.

The only thing that kept Santana from throwing an elbow his way as well was the fact that her own stomach was rumbling with hunger. A middle-aged Indian man stood up from the head table at the front of the room and made his way over to a podium that Santana hadn't even noticed was there.

"Oh, that must be Headmaster Figgins," Rachel straightened up excitedly. "I bet he is going to give the start of the year speech, now."

"And the award for the most obvious realization goes to…" Santana sighed, and the students sitting nearby giggled. She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand as Professor Figgins monotonous voice lulled a good portion of the student body to sleep. Santana couldn't be bothered with Professor Figgins and his speech, and she allowed her mind to wander, dreaming up all the possible varieties of food that awaited them in the kitchens. She hoped there would be pie.

A swift kick under the table caused Santana to jerk upright, "What…what's going on?"

"You were drooling," Quinn whispered, frowning at her.

"So? If he doesn't hurry this speech up, I am going to have to go all Hannibal Lecter on this place, and doughboy next to me is going to be the first to go."

"I don't know if you realize this," Quinn leaned towards her over the table. "But the _he _that you are referring to is our Headmaster, so I suggest you pay attention to what he has to say because it is no doubt going to prove very beneficial in the future."

Santana rolled her eyes and rested her chin back in her hand. Headmaster Figgins, what a joke. Her mother had told her all about him. He wasn't headmaster when her parents had attended Hogwarts, but she knew of him from her friends that had children that attended school under him, and the man was nothing but a pushover.

"And finally…" Professor Figgins droled on.

Santana tuned her ears in at the sound of a nearby end to the speech.

"Mr. Schuester, our caretaker," Professor Figgins motioned to the back of the hall where a man with curly hair and sweater vest stood smiling at the students, "has asked me to remind you all that a list of forbidden items is pinned up on each house's bulletin board and that if he catches you with any of the items, he will confiscate them. Also, he has asked me to warn that any student caught vandalizing the sign-up sheets for our Glee Club that he has also put up in each common room will be given detention and have house points deducted."

Santana glanced back at Mr. Schuester who was still smiling at the students though they were no longer looking at him, "Creep."

"A glee club?" Rachel drew in an excited breath. "Oh, I can't wait to join. I know what you all are thinking, that I may be a little young to hope for any sort of solo, but I will have you know that I can in first in the Little—"

"Newsflash," Quinn interrupted from across the table. "Nobody cares. Nobody cares about you, and nobody cares about some dumb little glee club."

Rachel closed her mouth, swallowing loudly.

Santana tilted her head, studying her friend closely, trying to decide whether or not Quinn had recovered from her meltdown and was back to her normal icy ways, or she was just taking it out on the easiest target.

"And without any further ado," Professor Figgins gave a wave of his hand and platter upon platter of food appeared on the rows of tables. "Let's eat."

"Gracias a Dios," Santana muttered as she began to shovel steak and kidney pie onto her plate.


	3. Year 1 Chapter 3

++++++++  
>Chapter 3<p>

The walk to the Slytherin house had been an exciting one with the first years tittering enthusiastically about their new home for the next seven years, yet Santana tried her best to appear bored by it all. She walked with her shoulders squared and her chin high, paying little attention as the blonde fifth year from earlier, who turned out to be a prefect, demanded that they keep close and pay attention to his directions even closer.

It wasn't as if Santana needed his directions, anyway. Her mother had gone over the layout of the castle with her so many times that she felt as if she could navigate around the aging school blindfolded if need be. She had also lost Quinn somewhere along the way on the journey, the one-time, would-be Gryffindor having fallen to the back of the group as she fell deeper into the recesses and fears of her own mind, but Santana didn't even notice. When thinking of this moment, her first walk with her new peers, her first trip to the Slytherin Common Room, Quinn had never been there with her since even in her musings and dreams, Quinn had always been sorted into Gryffindor and would presumably be somewhere else in the castle, walking with her own house at this moment. So, Santana barely registered when Quinn fell to the back of the group, leaving her alone in a crowd of her classmates.

Finally, after winding their way down beneath the school, they came to a stop in front of a bare stone wall. Santana stood up even straighter.

"Listen up, first years," the blonde prefect called out. "The password for now is 'Long Live Salazar Slytherin'. It will do you well no to forget it. The password does and will change, and when that happens, you will be notified by myself of one of my fellow prefects. It will also be posted on the noticeboard, so check it frequently. And lastly, do not go around giving out our password to non-Slytherin. The consequences for anyone caught doing so will be most severe."

Santana started to roll her eyes. As if she were going to be intimidated by some fifth year on a power trip.

"And word to the wise," the prefect continued, "those are Professor Sylvester's warnings, not mine."

Santana's eyes snapped still mid-eye roll. If Santana were going to be intimidated by anyone in this school, it was going to be Professor Sylvester. The professor's reputation as an icy, no nonsense woman was legendary. According to her parents' stories of when they were in school, it was considered a slow day for Professor Sylvester when her quick tongue would only send ten students running out of her class in tears, but, and this was a rare but, but if you were able to get onto the professor's good side, then you would have it made for the rest of your school career.

The prefect turned around to face the stone wall and spoke the password clearly and precisely as if trying to demonstrate to the first years the proper way for them to do it in the future. The scraping of stone filled the hall and soon a passageway formed before them, just like Santana knew it would. She smirked at the other first years awe-filled faces as they followed the prefect through the passage into the low-ceilinged, dimly lit Slytherin common room. Black and green leather sofas filled the room that was filled with skulls and dark wood cupboards lining the walls.

"Why does everything look…green?" Rachel asked as she stopped next to Santana.

Santana snorted, "What? Does your precious book not mention that?"

Even in the green tinged atmosphere, Santana could see Rachel's cheeks turning a bright pink.

"It's because we are partially under the Great Lake, Pinocchio," Santana informed before stepping further into the room. A slow smile formed on her face. It was exactly like her parents had described in all of their stories. It was exactly how she had been picturing it in her dreams. It was perfect.

++gw++

Santana stretched as she woke up the next morning, well rested after her first night of sleep in her new dormitory, thanks in large part to the gentle lapping of water against the windows that lulled her into a deep sleep. She pulled back the green silk hangings around her bed to be greeted by what appeared to be an empty dormitory. All of the other bed's hangings, bar one, were pulled back, revealing empty beds. She glanced at the old pocket watch her father had given her-knowing that her digital watch she used to wear would be rendered useless by all of the magic flowing within the halls of the school-that was resting on her black bedside table. It was nearly noon. Rising early was never a strength of Santana's.

Santana stretched slowly, cocking her head as the sound of sniveling reached her ears. She crawled out of her four poster bed and slowly crept her way over to the only bed that hadn't had its curtains drawn yet. She silently hoped to find the large nosed, midget Rachel writing home, asking for her parents to send for her, realizing that she didn't have what it takes to be counted among Slytherin's elite. But as Santana made her way closer and recognized the trunk at the foot of the bed, she knew that wasn't the case.

She carefully pulled the green curtains around the bed back and was met by a young girl crying over a blank page as she held a quill in her hand. It wasn't Rachel, though, as Santana had originally hoped. It was Quinn.

"Q…" Santana began, but had no idea where to go.

"I thought everybody had risen and left," Quinn offered by way of explanation as she hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"You know I don't wake up before lunch on the weekends," Santana forced a chuckle.

"You definitely do need your beauty sleep," Quinn nodded.

Santana gave a genuine smile. With that derogatory remark, she at least new Quinn's body hadn't been invaded by some alien like in that old movie she watched with her dad that one time—old sci-fi was his favorite movie genre.

"What's going on?" Santana asked, knowing that when it was just the two of them there was no point in beating around the bush.

"I…I was trying to…I was going to…I need to," Quinn stuttered out, her eyes tearing up once more.

Santana's chest tightened in worry. She had never seen Quinn so undone before.

Quinn sniffed hard before starting again, "I was trying to write my parents to tell them, but every time I start…what am I supposed to write? Dear Mummy and Daddy, I know you have spent the past eleven years doing everything in your power to ensure that I would be sorted into the family house, but guess what? Not only was I not sorted into Gryffindor, but I _was _sorted into the very near demonic house that you loathe. Sorry for being such a disappointment and crushing all of your hopes and dreams for the future of our family. Love, your baby girl."

Santana bit her tongue to keep from countering Quinn's attack on Slytherin, knowing that it was just how Quinn was mistakenly raised, much like how she herself was properly raised to absolutely abhor Gryffindor, simple facts that the two consciously chose to bury and not bring up while growing up together. The girls did it because they had both come to realize that they were too different from the other children their age, too above them, to ever consider any of them friends, so all they were left with were each other. The girls' parents did it because they had also realized that when it came to the class of people they wanted their children to be surrounded by, any other kids just did not make the cut.

"Now I just think it would be better if I don't tell them," Quinn sighed.

"Don't tell them?" Santana raised both her eyebrows.

"Yes, like ever. I mean, I do not see why they have to know."

"You don't think that if they don't hear from you by Monday, they will just assume that you got sorted into Gryffindor and will start bragging to their friends accordingly?"

"And? How will they find out otherwise if I never tell them?"

"How?" Santana sputtered. "How? There are a million ways how they could find out."

"Name one," Quinn challenged.

"Ok, how about when you go home for the holidays with Slytherin robes instead of Gryffindor ones? Or how about when your head of hose writes home about some achievement that your achievement loving self is bound to acquire, and it is signed by Professor Sylvester instead of Professor Holiday? Or how about when your dad comes to watch a Gryffindor Quidditch match like he has at least once a year every year since he graduated? Or how about—"

"Ok!" Quinn snapped sharply. "Okay…I just said one, you know."

"Sorry," Santana frowned. "You have to tell them, though, Q."

Quinn's shoulders dropped.

"It will be way worse if you don't tell them now, and they tell all their friends you are in Gryffindor, but then find out otherwise later. They will be so much more upset with you for embarrassing them like that, you know that, right?"

"I know," Quinn sniffed, pulling out a handkerchief seemingly out of thin air to wipe her nose. "Can you, you know…"

Santana froze, half expecting Quinn to ask for her help in writing the letter, and knowing that if she did then her initial fears would have been correct and Quinn had in fact been invaded by a body snatcher.

"Stay with me while I write it? Then maybe we can go explore a bit of the dungeons and stuff?"

Santana let out a relieved breath and nodded, figuring that like her own parents, Quinn's had probably gone over a layout of the castle with her. But, unlike her own parents, Quinn's wouldn't have had extensive knowledge of the sub-levels.

++gw++

Santana adjusted her green and white tie before smoothing her robes, running a hand over the Slytherin crest in the process as she made her way through the dungeons with the rest of the first year Slytherins. She stood even straighter than normal, proud of the fact that she was one of only two first years with the proper green lined robes that members of the Slytherin House wore. Normally, first years bought plain black robes, like the ones Santana had worn to the sorting ceremony, since they did not know for certain what house they would be sorted into. Then, their parents could buy them the proper robes and send them in the mail, or the student could just wait to buy new ones before their second year.

Santana could feel a smirk forming at the thought of her parents having enough faith—and money, just in case they had to go and buy a third set of robes after the plain black and the green lined if she had been sorted into a different house (as if)—in her to go ahead and buy her the proper robes of a Slytherin. The only other first year that had a set of green lined robes, the boy named Azimio, seemed to be fit to burst through the robes' worn seams at any moment, making it known—to Santana at least—that the robes were mere hand me downs, either from an older sibling or even his parents.

Santana glanced at Quinn who was walking next to her, picture perfect posture as always. She had caught a glimpse of the crimson lined robes in Quinn's trunk as they were getting ready that morning.

"Have you heard from your parents after you know…the incident?" she asked. The incident she was referring to was the howler that arrived for Quinn the afternoon before as the two of them sat out by the Great Lake, enjoying the sunshine while they could before the start of classes. It had been a brutal one, and, Santana knew, one that had been timed to arrive later than the other mail, which normally arrived in the Great Hall, in order to lessen the number of witnesses. The Fabrays were never ones for public commotions.

"My mum wrote to me last night," Quinn nodded. "She tried to write everything she remembered about Slytherin, anything that could be important. She said she and Daddy talked, a lot, and while he is incredibly angry still, he realizes that I am still representing the Fabray family, and that above all else, I need to excel. So, I am to embrace the Slytherin House and act as if this was the house I wanted to be sorted into."

"Appearances," Santana nodded in understanding.

"Yes," Quinn nodded. "As for, you know, the disappointment side, well…Mum said that Daddy said we'll deal with it when I go home for the holidays."

Santana swallowed, "Happy Christmas."

Quinn offered a half forced chuckle as they walked through the doorway of their very first lesson: Potions with the infamous instructor, Professor Sue Sylvester, to be exact.

The room was dark and the dank air belied the sun that Santana had witnessed warming the environs outside on her brief trip above ground for breakfast in the Dining Hall. Santana outwardly shivered as she followed Quinn into the sublevel classroom, making a mental note to pack her sweater in her book bag the next time her potions class met.

"How lucky is it that our very first lesson is to be taught by our own head of house?" an overly enthusiastic voice popped up beside her.

Santana groaned loudly, "What is with you and what do I have to do to make it stop?"

"Look, Santana," Rachel began, "I know we seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot, but—"

"First off," Quinn cut her off, "I am pretty sure it's Lady Santana to you, Commoner. Secondly, we did not get off on the wrong foot, you simply cannot read social cues like the one that clearly puts us in a position far, far above you, thereby creating a wall of sorts between us and you. That wall is impenetrable; you cannot and will not ever be able to break through it. So why don't you save us all a lot of time and crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and stay there."

Santana watched in a mixture of shock and awe as Rachel scurried off. It had been a while since she had gotten to bear witness to Quinn really sinking her claws into someone. "Bloody hell, Fabray."

"Yes, well, you know how people like that—people who don't know their place—push my buttons."

"All the entertaining ones," she chuckled.

Quinn rolled her eyes and started to make her way towards the front of the classroom, "Come on, let's go find a table before the other house shows up and takes all the good ones."

"Wait, I'm not going up there," Santana protested from where she stood. Santana Lopez did not sit at the front of the class like some brown-noser.

"Oh, quit being a hoodlum," Quinn sighed.

"You quit being a teacher's pet," Santana countered.

Quinn walked back to where she stood with a firm frown setting her mouth into a thin line. When she opened her mouth to talk, it was in a voice barely above a whisper, "Look, I know you and I have always differed in our seating choices, but it's not for every class, just this one. You know Professor Sylvester's reputation. She is easily the meanest, hardest teacher here, and she is our head of house. We need to get on her good side, and you can bet it won't be easy. But if we do, if we make it onto her good side, we'll have it made. My mum said in her letter that Professor Sylvester's favorites were practically able to get away with murder. So, it's just one class, Lopez, then we can be delinquents in every other class if you'd like."

But Santana shook her head; she didn't know where Quinn got off thinking that after one letter from her parents, she knew more about Slytherin and its infamous head of house than Santana, whose parents had been lecturing her about all things Slytherin from the moment of conception.

"You're forgetting one thing: no one likes a suck up."

"Fine, take the hard way," Quinn straightened up. "I'll be in the front, riding down easy street; you are welcome to join me when you come to your senses."

It was Santana's turn now to roll her eyes as Quinn turned on her heel and walked to the front of the room, taking a seat in the very first row. Santana, on the other hand, chose a spot in the second to last row at the middle table, as far away from the damp walls as possible.

The sound of the heavy door scratching against the stone floor caused Santana to turn to see which house they would be sharing their potions lesson with. "And the day just keeps getting better," she huffed at the sight of the gold and red tie clad children entering the classroom. Santana hefted up her book bag from the floor and placed it on the empty chair beside her, not wanting to have to share a table with some snot-nose from Gryffindor all year. She then folded her arms on the table before her and rested her forehead on top of them, content with the idea of catching a few more minutes of sleep before the actual lesson started up. She was just about to enter dreamland when a hushed voice broke through the fogginess warmly enveloping her brain.

"Shh…Tubbington, if you don't behave, you're not going to be able to come to anymore classes."

Santana turned her head over towards the voice, wondering how someone had managed to actually move her bag from and sit on a chair that was less than a foot away from her, without waking her up. But when she opened her eyes and took in the petite blonde beside her, hands clutching a tiny lump beneath her sweater to which she was currently talking, Santana nodded in understanding as she sat up. "Brittany." Of course it would be her, the amount of grace Santana had bore witness to in their short time together on the train was probably more than enough to allow the small girl to flit about, undetected.

"Santana," Brittany turned to her with a toothy smile that quickly faded. "We didn't wake you, did we? I'm sorry, I was trying to keep quiet but Tubbington keeps trying to tickle me."

Santana blinked her eyes several times, staving off the last few seconds of sleep that were continuing to cloud her brain. "What…wait, what are you doing here?" she asked curiously, but she froze as soon as her eyes landed on the striped tie that was draped over Brittany's shoulders, the colors red and gold alternating down on either side. "Oh. You're in Gryffindor. I'd almost forgotten about that."

"Yea, I think the sorting hat must've completely misunderstood me because this isn't what I had in mind when I told him where I needed to go," Brittany frowned thoughtfully.

Santana nodded, only half listening as she turned back to the front. She had been so busy over the course of the weekend, moving in to her dormitory, familiarizing herself with as much of the castle as she could, and getting acquainted with her new classmates—the ones she and Quinn deemed important enough to acquaint themselves with, at least—that she had all but forgotten about the curious girl whose life she'd saved.

But now, here she was, faced with the girl that she, Santana-I-don't-need-anyone-Lopez had not only deemed important enough to save, but also briefly entertained the idea of letting her into her inner circle of peers, a circle which had up until that point only consisted of one other person: Quinn Fabray, and she was stuck. Quinn, herself, had seen something in Brittany that had kept her from kicking her out of their compartment the second she barged in, something useful, yet none of that mattered anymore now that Brittany had been sorted into Gryffindor. One of the first things her mother had taught her was that Slytherins completely loathed Gryffindors…and that the feeling was one of mutuality. Although, apparently, no one had bothered to share that memo with Brittany because here she was, sitting next to her and talking to her as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be doing.

"It's not that bad, though," Brittany shrugged. "The living room is really cozy, and the students are nice…I think."

"Whoa, you think?" Santana raised a questioning eyebrow as she found herself pulled from her troublesome thoughts.

"Well, when I stopped this boy and asked if he could tell me how to get to, well, here, he looked at my schedule and wished me luck. I guess he got distracted because he walked off without giving me the directions, but that's okay because I found some other first years I recognized and just followed them. But then, when I asked if one of them would tie my tie for me, they just rolled their eyes and called me a Yankee," Brittany's bottom lip fell into a pout. "I don't even like baseball."

Santana frowned, her eyes darting around the room to quickly assess the other Gryffindor first years. Her gaze eventually settled back on Brittany and the lump in her sweater, "Wait a minute…who is Tubbington?"

"My cat," Brittany raised her sweater and the white oxford beneath it to reveal a gray ball of fur. "Remember? You met him on the train."

"Brittany, you really shouldn't bring him to class, especially not one with so many dangerous ingredients being handled by so many incompetent first years."

"I know, but he's not used to spending so much time away from me, he's just a baby…" Brittany's pout deepened as she scratched behind the kitten's ears.

"Santana," an agitated voice from behind them made Brittany tug her clothing back down in a hurry.

Santana spun on her chair to find Quinn standing there, a hand on her hip, but an apologetic look in her eyes.

"Have you come to your senses, yet?" Quinn asked.

"What? Class hasn't even started yet," Santana looked around in confusion, but when she caught sight of the seat in the first row that Quinn had left vacant, and more importantly the person occupying the seat beside the empty chair, she let out a throaty laugh. "Oh, this is just beautiful."

"Shut up, Lopez. Just come sit with me and kick that troll to the back where she belongs."

"Look, I told you, Fabray, I'd rather have a sit down dinner with a dragon than be caught sitting in the front row like some nerd."

"Well, I guess I'll just sit back here with you, then. Move it, Gryffindork—oh, Brittany…"

"Hey Quinn," Brittany smiled as she turned around to greet her.

"Hey, sorry, but I need this chair, and seeing as you've had the disadvantage of being sorted into Gryffindor, however unfortunate," her eyes darted forlornly to Brittany's crimson and gold tie, "means you need to hurry back to your own kind, so…"

Santana looked back and forth between the two blondes, from Quinn's calculated glare to Brittany's open confusion and soft pout that had found its way back to her lips.

"Wait a minute," Santana held an arm out, preventing Brittany from standing up and walking away. "Just because you bit the big one, Fabray, doesn't mean you get to come back here and take it out on everyone else. Brittany chose to sit next to me, and not just because it was her last option. So, how about you go back to your spot in the front row and enjoy the semester…oh, and tell Rachel I said, hi," Santana added with a smirk as Quinn narrowed her eyes at her before walking back to her previous seat.

"Thanks," Brittany smiled widely.

"She needs to remember that I am not one of her little minions that'll do whatever she says," Santana shrugged off the gratitude as she reached out and turned Brittany until they were facing each other, knees touching. She raised her hands to the other girl's tie, pausing briefly as she made note of the fact that it would be opposite of tying her own, before her fingers set to work. "Now, I'll tie it for you today. But, I'll meet up with you after classes later and teach you how to tie it on your own."

"Really?" Blue eyes lit up excitedly.

"Yea, well, I happen to know that Professor Sylvester is a stickler for appearance, so if you're going to sit by me then you have to have to follow the uniform code to a 't'," Santana replied as she pulled back, giving a satisfied nod as she looked over her work.


	4. Year 1 Chapter 4

1.4

* * *

><p>The next time the door of the Potions classroom opened, it wasn't with a scratching sound, but with a loud bang that made all the students jump up, alert in their seats. Santana swallowed hard as she turned to find a rather tall woman with short blonde hair storming into the room, her robes billowing out from around her, making the track suit beneath it visible to all. Santana fought to not raise an eyebrow. Nobody ever said Sue Sylvester was known for her fashion sense.<p>

"I didn't know we could wear our pajamas to class," Brittany whispered.

"I don't think those are pajamas," Santana replied, immediately straightening up as Professor Sylvester reached the front of the class and turned to face them in a dramatic fashion, black robes spinning about flamboyantly.

Professor Sylvester's hard eyes narrowed as they scanned over the room of first years. Every now and then her gaze would pause on a particular student as she muttered something incomprehensible from where Santana sat at the back of the room. The look on her face, however, was more than enough to let Santana know that the professor was uttering her displeasure with what sat before her. When the professor's eyes paused on her own face, Santana froze, taking in a deep breath as her jaw tightened, forcing herself to stare right back. She knew it was all about respect with the older woman. Not brown-nosing, not fear, respect.

When Professor Sylvester's eyes moved on without her mouth murmuring a snide comment, Santana felt all the air that she had been holding leave her lungs in a whoosh. She was so relieved that when Professor Sylvester's eyes landed on Brittany and the small girl beside her decided to wave and smile brightly in reply, causing a rather confused expression to fall over the professor's countenance, Santana had to quickly cover her mouth to keep a giggle from escaping. Professor Sylvester's gaze moved on, once again without saying anything, pausing a few more time over a few select students, none of which she seemed entirely too thrilled about having in her class.

"Pathetic!" Professor Sylvester barked, loud enough for the entire class to hear this time. She turned around with a flourish, her hand snatching at a piece of chalk. Words quickly began to be written across the blackboard in a scrawling handwriting, and as Santana took them in, her eyes widened—it was a potions recipe. She hadn't realized that they would begin brewing on the first day of class.

When Professor Sylvester's hand came to a stop, the recipe now complete, she turned back around and eyed the students coldly one last time, "You have two hours to complete the potion…though by the looks of you all, it will be an accomplishment if you manage to merely finish reading the recipe by the end of that time." With a roll of her eyes, she made her way to the chair behind the dark wooden desk that sat at the front of the class.

The no-nonsense professor had just taken a magazine out of a drawer of her desk when Brittany's hand shot into the air.

"Brittany, I don't think—" Santana began, but it was too late. Professor Sylvester had already seen her.

"Is there a problem, Blondie? Because I am not one of those types of professors that will sit here and help you with your…special needs. I am sorry if you cannot read, but this is the format—"

"I can read," Brittany cut her off.

"_Dios mio_," Santana's head lowered.

"I was just wondering what your name was," Brittany informed.

The entire class sat, staring at Professor Sylvester with wide eyes, too scared to turn their incredulous looks around to the poor girl in the back of the class that would surely be running from the room in a fit of tears at any moment.

"Normally teachers introduce themselves in the first class of the year," she continued, clearly nonplussed by the heightened atmosphere of the room.

"My…my name? You want to know my name?" Professor Sylvester choked out in surprise. "What is _your _name, child?"

"Brittany S. Pierce," Brittany smiled. "Not to be confused with Britney Spears."

Professor Sylvester nodded, as if that was all the explanation she needed.

Santana's eyes darted around confusedly, wondering if she was the only one that had no idea what was happening.

"Well, Brittany S. Pierce, not to be confused with Britney Spears, my name is Professor Sue Sylvester. I will be your Potions instructor for the next seven years. I have been teaching here for far, far longer than you have been alive. Probably even longer than most of your parents have been alive—hard to believe I am only 29, I know. I know how to brew potions that can bring you back to life and ones that can kill you, ones that can turn you into the ugliest troll and ones that can cause all the little boys on the block to be swooning after you. I do not like slackers, and I have been known to use my lesser-favored students as test subjects for the poorly brewed potions of their classmates. Is there anything else you would like to know?" Professor Sylvester's eyebrows rose. But even with the apparent sarcasm of the last question, there was the tiniest bit of patience lacing her words that had Santana's head spinning. This was not the professor she had been told about.

"No, that was a very good introduction," Brittany nodded with a smile. "It is nice to meet you."

Professor Sylvester's eyebrows scrunched together, and Santana felt a slight since of relief at the fact that she wasn't the only one lost. The professor picked her magazine back up and began to leisurely flip through the pages. The class took this as their cue to begin their work.

"How did you not…I told you it was…what just happened?" Santana finally managed to get out as she reached for the lionfish spines to begin crushing. "How do you not know who Professor Sylvester is?"

"Well, I know now, silly. She just introduced herself," Brittany replied.

Santana reached out to stop her from adding two handfuls of spines to her own mortar, "Just four."

"Does it really matter if I add a few more than necessary? Won't it give it a bit more flavor?" Brittany asked genuinely.

Santana's eyes widened, "First off, it is a herbicide potion, meaning it is meant to kill plants, meaning it is not meant to be eaten by humans, so the flavor really doesn't matter. Second, yes, it really does matter if you add a few more than necessary. It matters if you add one-hundredth of one more than necessary. Potion making is a very exact science."

"Why would we want to kill the plants, though?" Brittany's bottom lip had jutted out into a pout.

"Not all plants are good, Brittany."

"You mean like weeds?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of that stupid Whomping Willow out on the grounds, but, yea, like weeds," Santana waved off the topic. "But what I meant before was, how did you not know who Professor Sylvester was before her introduction?"

"I'm not from here, Santana," Brittany pointed out.

"I know that, anybody with a pair of ears knows that, but everybody in the world knows who Professor Sylvester is."

"Well, apparently not everybody," Brittany frowned.

Santana's shoulders dropped, "Sorry, Brittany, I didn't mean it as a bad thing, you just…confuse me."

Brittany shrugged, her smile returning, "It's okay. I find lots of things confusing: recipes, for one…and that's when I'm making stuff that I actually _am _allowed to eat."

Santana chuckled, "Well, fortunately, I happen to know a thing or two about potions. My mother is an expert."

"Looks like I picked the right seat, then," Brittany's face lit up.

"Lucky you," Santana nodded.

Brittany scoffed, "Lucky you."

Santana had to cover her mouth with her arm to keep the laughter that was bubbling up her throat from bursting out of her mouth. "Come on; let's finish crushing because it has to brew a good hour and a half."

++gw++

"Perfect," Santana smirked as she looked at the finished potion in her cauldron. It was a dark green, bordering on black, and smelled horrid. She poured a tiny sample into a vial and put a stopper on top. "Okay, so you remember the plan?" Santana turned to Brittany and the dark green potion in her cauldron.

"Yep, you go turn yours in. I wait five minutes and then go turn mine in, so as to not let Professor Sylvester know you helped me out too much. Then I meet you outside the classroom where Operation: Tie a Tie will begin."

"Yes," Santana smiled before standing up, off of her stool. "See you in five minutes."

She made her way to the front of the room where there was already a small collection of vials on Professor Sylvester's desk. The fact that none of them were as dark of a green as her own made Santana's smirk reappear.

"Poor excuse for a Potion," Professor Sylvester commanded with a sigh, holding her hand out to take the vial without even looking up from her magazine: the latest copy of _Quidditch Weekly_, the front cover of which showed off the newest recruit of Puddlemere United—a heavy-set beater from Bournemouth—flexing in his shiny, new navy-blue robes. Santana resisted the urge to snort. Puddlemere was nothing more than a bunch of pansies. A member of Puddlemere wouldn't last a day at practice with the Falmouth Falcons, and she wasn't just saying that because her father had been recruited by the falcons. He had eventually turned them down in favor of going on to study medicine, of course, but they still held a special place in the family's heart.

Professor Sylvester's hand bobbed up and down carefully, as if weighing the vial in her hand. She looked up from her magazine, an expression of pleasant surprise forming on her face as she took in Santana's completed potion.

"Hm," she rolled the vial around in her hand. "Not bad. Good coloring. Not quite as thick as it needs be, but overall, loads better than the dribble that has been turned in thus far," she motioned to the other vials on her desk, one of which glowed a neon yellow.

The professor looked up and took Santana in, her eyes narrowing slightly, "Lopez, right?"  
>Santana nodded.<p>

"I remember you from the sorting. When I heard your name and saw your eyes, I just knew…you are Andrés Lopez's daughter, aren't you?"

"Yes ma'am," Santana stood as tall as she could. She bit back the urge to correct the professor for not using her father's proper title.

"I remember your father very well: an excellent keeper, he led Slytherin to the title three years in a row."

"Yes ma'am," Santana beamed proudly.

"And he turned out to be quite the doctor, I hear."

"He is world-renowned," Santana nodded.

"He did well in my class, but…Potions did not come naturally to him. He had to work hard for it…"

Santana could hear the questions forming in the professor's mind as she examined the potion once more.

"Who is your mother?"

"Lady Lop—" Santana quickly shook her head. "Sorry, I mean, Evelyn Black."

"Ahh, yes, I see that now," Professor Sylvester's eyes roamed her face. "Now she…she was one of my best students. Potions definitely came naturally to her. Sharp too, very sharp. A girl that knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. Wish I had more like her. Quite a bit younger than your dad, though, if I remember correctly?"

"Yes ma'am," Santana squirmed. "My dad waited until he was finished with his schooling before he even began to think of looking for a wife. And seeing as he went to both a school for healers in the magical world and a school for medicine in the Muggle one, he was a bit older than most when he finally settled down."

"Nothing wrong with being career oriented," Professor Sylvester nodded as she placed the vial in her hand down on her desk with the others. "Well, Lopez, based on your pedigree, I am expecting a lot from you. Let's hope you live up to it all."

"I will," Santana replied.

"We'll see," Professor Sylvester replied, her eyes moving from Santana's to just over the young girl's shoulders. "And as for your friend back there, a Miss Pierce, well, while I don't understand the entire sentiment behind it, I hear it is hard to turn down someone asking for help when they look as much as a lost puppy as she does, but perhaps it would be best if you didn't make it so obvious from now on."

"I offered," Santana blurted out before she could stop herself. Her tan complexion paled. "I-I mean, she did not ask me for help, I offered it."

"Well, the sentiment remains. Keep her from killing herself, by all means, please, but as for doing all of the work for her? I would hate to have to flunk someone with as much potential as you for cheating…"

Santana swallowed loudly, "Yes ma'am."

"You may go now. It is the first lecture of the term, and you all have already given me a migraine."

Santana nodded and quickly gathered her belongings before leaving the room. She allowed herself to collapse against the wall while she gave herself time to catch her head. Her pedigree seems to have put her at an advantage when it comes to Professor Sylvester, but the elder woman made it perfectly clear how easy it would be for Santana to lose that advantage.

"As much potential as you," Santana repeated with a smile.

The next time the door beside her opened, it was to reveal a petite blonde skipping out of the classroom. Brittany skipped right past Santana before stopping and turning around to face her.

"Well?" she raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Aren't you coming? Operation: Tie a Tie is ready to comment."

Santana shook her head with a soft smile before scrambling to catch up, "What did Professor Sylvester say to you?"

"I don't really know," Brittany shrugged as she fished the tiny kitten out of her shirt. "I was too busy trying not to laugh because Tubbington was tickling my belly."

"Why Tubbington, anyway?"

"I didn't want the other cats to tease him for being different, so I gave him the most British sounding name I could think of."

"You should have just given him a title."

"He's a cat Santana, not a book," Brittany rolled her eyes.

"No," Santana giggled. "Like you know…a title…like my father is Lord Lopez, like that."

Brittany's eyes widened.

"What?"

"Your dad is the Lord?"

"Well, he is a lord, but I guess if you ask my mother, than he is the lord, yes—"

"But that would make you…" Brittany's eyes were now impossibly wide as she dropped to her knees. "Jesus?"

Santana smiled, chuckling softly as she reached out and helped Brittany off the ground, "I forget how different some things are back across the pond. I didn't mean that Lord, I meant, like a…well, you know…have you ever heard of a duke or a count or even a knight?"

"Well, yeah, everybody's heard of knights."

"Okay, well, a knight is actually a ranking. There are several rankings all the way from a knight to a king, and each ranking comes with a title, which is how the person is addressed. With me so far?"

"I think so," Brittany nodded slowly, her eyes locked on Santana's face as she spoke, her forehead slightly scrunched in concentration.

"Okay, for each ranking there are two titles: the long formal one, and the informal one. The long formal one usually includes the person's ranking. For instance, my father is Earl Lopez in a formal setting, but in conversation, you can refer to him as Lord Lopez. Quinn's father is the Viscount Fabray, or less formally: Lord Fabray."

"Are all the informal titles Lord?"

"Yeah, unless you get up to the royal family or down to barons and knights."

"Hm…" Brittany raised the kitten in front of her face thoughtfully. "Lord Tubbington…I like that. What do you think?"

"It'll give him something to grow into," she nodded, her head tilting as she watched Brittany push up the sleeves of her robes that were clearly too long for her. Her eyes moved to the floor where she noticed the bottom of her robes trailing on the ground. "Is that what your parents did for you? Buy your robes a size too big in the hopes that you would grow into them? Because those look brand new, so they can't be hand me downs."

"These aren't my robes," Brittany reached down with her free hand turned back and forth on the balls of her feet, causing the robes to spin about playfully. "My robes are at the bottom of the lake, remember? These are your robes."

"I never got them back from you, did I?"

"Nope. I was going to just put them in my bag in case I ran into you today, but then I realized I didn't have any to wear, so…but here you go," Brittany placed her book bag on the floor and began to shrug off the robes.

"Wait, no, you don't have to do that," Santana quickly reached out to stop her. "Why don't you hang on to them until your parents can send you some new ones?"

"I don't know how long that will be," Brittany admitted, picking back up her bag. "There aren't any shops that sell wizard robes in Arizona, at least none that I've ever seen."

"Well, then your mom can order them. I'm sure Madam Malkin's has a catalogue we can send her."

"How long will that take?" Brittany asked her as they started walking again. "Cause I wrote my parents the day my flight landed and I arrived in Diagon Alley which was like almost two weeks ago, and I haven't heard back from them yet."

Santana glanced to her side to find Brittany's normally vibrant eyes downcast, "I don't know for certain. I haven't ever written to someone across an ocean before. I am sure you will hear back from them soon, though."

Brittany nodded, and Santana faced forward once more as she replayed Brittany's words in her head. The small girl had arrived in Diagon Alley by herself. She'd had to travel to a new country all alone. Either her parents were completely incompetent, or…"I am sure Second-Hand Robes also has a catalog if money is an iss—actually," Santana shook her head, "No, no second-hand robes for you. That would completely go against the whole purpose of looking your best and Operation: Tie a Tie. You can just keep mine. Quinn has quite the hand for stitching—something I have never had the patience for no matter how many times my mother insisted on giving me lessons—so, I will just have her hem them up for you."

"You think she would do that for me?" Brittany asked, the doubt clearly evident in her voice.

"Quinn's not as bad as she seems," Santana shook her head. "You just have to know how to deal with her. Now, come on, we had better get started on Operation: Tie a Tie before we are late to our next lessons. Herbology, if I remember correctly. Although, one would think it would make more sense for Herbology to be before Potions, but apparently whoever made the timetables must have been an incompetent man…what?" she questioned at Brittany frowning as she looked at her hand.

Santana reached over to take Brittany's hand where she found a schedule scribbled out on the back of it.

"I have flying next," Brittany pointed out.

"Oh," Santana dropped her hand, her eyes falling to the blonde's crimson and gold tie once more. "Right. You are in Gryffindor. I keep forgetting."

"Stupid sorting hat," Brittany mumbled as they made their way out of the dungeons.

++gw++

The first week of school went by in a flurry of new teachers and misdirection—it appeared that no matter how many times her mother had gone over the layout of the school, nothing could prepare her for moving staircases and disappearing doors—so Santana found herself glad to be able to stretch out beneath a large tree outside, able to catch her head for the first time since the term had started and enjoy her favorite pastime: people watching. Currently, she was watching a pair of Gryffindor upperclassmen walking hand in hand. The girl was wearing far too much makeup for both her age and current outing of choice, but on closer inspection, Santana realized the makeup was to cover up a patch of pimples expanding over her forehead. She was gripping onto the boys hand tightly. The boy, on the other hand, was strolling about as if he owned the world, smirking as he passed a group of his friends and winking when he passed a group of girls.

Santana rolled her eyes. She could see it now: they would be married in five years, and miserable in six. The boy would be sleeping around on the side while the girl would have plastic surgery after plastic surgery to try and keep her husband's eye from wondering. They would fit in perfectly with the couples her parents tended to hang out with.

"See?" Quinn asked as she stretched out beside her, opening up the novel she carried in her hand. "Are you not glad that you did your Astronomy homework yesterday like I suggested? Now we have all weekend to relax."

"Yeah, yeah," Santana waved her off before placing an arm over her eyes to block out the stray rays of sunshine that were managing to weave their way through the leaves of the tree. "I'm just glad that Professor Holiday got too distracted with making s'mores when that lout Hudson set his match on fire instead of turning it into a needle to give out homework this week."

Quinn's mouth twitched between a smile and a frown.

"Hey," a breezy voice greeted.

Santana opened one eye to watch as Brittany fell to the ground beside her in one fluid motion. Santana smiled and moved her arm from over her eyes to behind her head to use as a pillow.

"Are we bird watching?" Brittany asked, her gaze up to the tree above them.

"Just enjoying the weather while it is still nice," Santana replied. She glanced over to Brittany's empty hands. "You didn't bring your books? I thought you needed help with your History of Magic homework?"

The day before in their afternoon Potions class, Brittany had entered the room with a pout as she tossed her book bag down on the ground. It turned out when the History of Magic Professor, a very old, very wrinkly woman by the name of Nancy Bletheim, had given them a quiz at the beginning of class, like she had during Slytherin's lecture, to attain an estimate of what the students already knew, Professor Bletheim was none too pleased when she got back Brittany's paper. Apparently for the question of who was the current Minister of Magic, Brittany had replied with 'Pope Benedict XVI', and when the Professor asked if this was meant to be some sort of joke, Brittany in turn said that he was the only priest she knew of. This led to the Gryffindor first years being assigned with an essay two feet in length on the history of the position of minister of magic.

"Well, I went down to eat breakfast, and when I got back to the portrait, the password had been changed, and nobody would tell me the new one. I think word got out about what happened, and now unless I can find a way into the dorms to get my book, I won't be able to do the assignment which will only make the professor even more upset."

"Hold up," Santana sat up, allowing herself to better view the girl beside her. Her short shorts were nearly covered by the loose fitting tshirt that's bright colors caused her lightly sunkissed skin to glow. Her hair was pulled back in two braids, all levels of blonde from white to tawny interwoven together. Santana resisted the urge to run a hand through her own plainly black hair, knowing it had taken her too long that morning to get it to cooperate to be messing it up now. "They locked you out of your dorm?"

"Out of the whole house, actually," Brittany replied, one eye squinted against the sunlight, the other a bright aquamarine rivaling the gemstone in the necklace her father had given her grandma for her sixtieth birthday—and coincidentally the day that Santana was born. It was a story her grandmother loved to tell, and a necklace Santana had never seen the aging woman without.

"That's so…that's so…" Santana growled before quickly standing up and pulling Brittany to her feet with her. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"We are going to the Gryffindor Common Room so that I can give your peers a piece of my mind."

"How are you going to get into the Common Room?" Quinn asked, looking at the pair of them curiously over her book.

"Well…" Santana began, but trailed off as looked over to Brittany and remember that she did not have the password. Brittany gave an apologetic look, and Santana felt her anger rising hotly through her veins. "I am going to go over there and demand they let us in. I am Lady Santana Lopez and—"

"And you are a First Year Slytherin," Quinn shook her head as she put her book down and sat up straight. "They are never going to let you in there."

"I will make them."

"You are a puny little first year, Santana-"

Santana bristled at that.

"-They are not going to be scared of you. This is not like our other school. Over here, you may be granted respect, but it is only because of your title. Fear, however? No way."

"That's because they don't know me, yet."

"Exactly! These kids do not know you like our other classmates did, and until your reputation has a chance to catch on, you will remain nothing but a wimpy little first year with a rich daddy to them."

"And how is my reputation supposed to catch on?"

"Just be yourself," Quinn waved at her, relaxing behind her book once more. "After the lake incident, and your unfortunately perfect performance in Potions this week, and Defense Against The Dark Arts where you went off on a spiel about the Unforgivable Curses—"

Santana smirked at this. During the first DADA lesson of the term, which they shared with Ravenclaw, Professor Henri St. Pierre began by asking the class why they thought it was important to take such a class. The consensus seemed to be to "protect us from bad spells and creatures". When prompted to expand, the class began to list off things such as the Blasting Curse or Petrificus Totalus or Merpeople. It was at the mention of the Tongue-Tying Curse that Santana had snorted loudly in laughter.

_"Oh, please, an infant can protect itself from the Tongue-Tying Curse," Santana managed through her laughter. "And Merpeople? Really? You really think that the Four Founders deemed this class important enough to make it mandatory for First Through Fifth Years because they were afraid that we would someday be overrun by Merpeople? I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart."_

_The classroom of Ravenclaw and Slytherin stared back at her in a mixture of awe and nerves._

_"He is talking about the Unforgivable Curses," Santana rolled her eyes in exasperation._

_"Um, actually, no, I wasn't talking…" Professor St. Pierre eyed her warily. "How do you even…What do you know about the curses?"_

_"I know that there is a reason that they are called Unforgivable," Santana shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. Truth be told, she knew a lot about the curses, but that never stopped the chills from forming down her spine at the mere mention of them. "And I know that the use of one is enough to earn you a one way ticket to Azkaban."_

_"Everyone knows that," a Slytherin boy with short black hair replied before turning back to face the front._

_Santana bristled, feeling a challenge in his words, "I know that there are three of them: The Cruciatus Curse, The Imperius Curse, and the Killing Curse. The first of which inflicts the most excruciating pain imaginable upon its victim. It is often used as a form of torture for dark wizards, and if used for a long enough period of time, it can cause serious, permanent damage on the victim's brain. The next one, the Imperius Curse places the victim under the control of the wizard casting the spell. Doesn't sound too bad, right? But think of all the things you could be made to do: rob a bank, hurt someone, kill your own family. Often when people are caught in the wrong, they claim to be under this curse as a means of getting out of punishment. And then finally, the Killing Curse. That one is pretty self-explanatory, but—"_

_"That's enough!" Professor St. Pierre slammed his hand onto his desk._

_Santana felt a smirk forming as she realized the nerves in her classmates eyes had been replaced with fear as they stared back at her, mouths hanging open._

"All you need to do is show a little patience. Just keep on being your lovely self," Quinn continued with a wry smile, "and allow time for the talk to become associated with your actual being before you go seeking out fights with upperclassmen that know how to perform a hell of a lot more magic than you."

"Who said anything about magic?" Santana crossed her arms. "I was planning on using my fists."

Quinn giggled, "Just give it a little more time, and upperclassmen will be quivering in fear at the mere thought of you, just like you like it."

Santana nodded, her shoulders sagging in defeat. She looked to Brittany who was drawing what appeared to be a rainbow in the dirt on the ground with the toe of her shoe, her nose scrunched in thought.

Brittany looked up, catching Santana watching, "Do you think they are going to be mad at me long? I mean, my answers seemed to really upset Professor Bletheim, so it really _is _my fault that we have so much homework. Maybe I should bring them flowers or something? That's what my dad does when he says something to my mom that leaves him sleeping on the couch for a few nights."

"What? Brittany, no, you do not need to apologize," Santana replied firmly, holding Brittany's gaze to make sure she was listening. "It is not your fault that they call people by different titles in America. We have Ministers, you have Presidents. The other Gryffindors, they are the ones who are in the wrong for doing this. I am pretty sure there are rules against it. Plus, my mom says that you should never be the first one to back down from a fight because it only shows weakness. Are you weak?"

Brittany shook her head, her eyes never wavering as she matched Santana's intense gaze, "No, I mean, I broke my arm when I was eight while going around a really tight turn, and I didn't even cry. I still have the sticker from the doctor to prove it. It doesn't smell anymore when you scratch it, but it does have a really cute batch of grapes with smiley faces on it. But—"

"No buts," Santana shook her head. "They are wrong, and you are right."

Brittany's face lit up at this declaration, a wide smile forming before fading just as quickly. "But I need to get my book for the assignment. I don't want to start off on the wrong foot…again."

Santana nodded at this. It was true, if Brittany did not turn in the assignment that had only been assigned because of her, then it would just serve to further anger the professor and further put Brittany in her house's bad graces. But, unfortunately, she had to admit Quinn was right as well, she couldn't just march up to a Gryffindor prefect and demand they give Brittany the password; they would laugh in her face, and if word of _that _got around, her kindling reputation would be completely extinguished.

"Come on," Santana motioned for Brittany to follow her.

"Where are you going?" Quinn asked apprehensively.

"To Slytherin's Common Room. I already promised Brittany that I would help her with the homework, so we might as well just use my book for the time being. We will find some Gryffindor First Year to corner afterwards and scare into giving Brittany the password."

Somewhere in the middle of that statement, Quinn had scrambled to her feet in a very unQuinn-like fashion, and was currently dusting herself off and tucking her book under her arm.

Santana raised an eyebrow in teasing question.

"What? Santana Lopez voluntarily gives up her Saturday to work on an assignment that isn't even hers? This I have to see."

++gw++

Whether word of Santana's outburst in class really had been getting around or whether it was the weekend and everybody was out of uniform, Brittany included, or perhaps a little bit of both, but nobody even looked twice when the Gryffindor entered the Slytherin Common Room with Santana and Quinn. Santana showed Brittany to a small, round table off in the corner, telling her to have a seat while she went up to her room to gather her things. She came back down the stairs, her hands loaded down with her History of Magic book, parchment, quills, and ink. She passed a group of first year boys on her way towards the black wooden table where Quinn and Brittany sat, awaiting her return. Brittany's eyes were moving around the room, curiously taking everything in, while Quinn had gone back to reading her novel.

"No, she's not a Slytherin," the soft voice of a young boy insisted. "She isn't in any of our classes."

"You sure? I think I've seen her in potions," another replied.

"We take Potions with Gryffindor, you moron. The girl must belong in Gryffindor."

"Why would a Gryffindor be in our Common Room?" a new voice questioned.

"I don't know," the first boy answered, his voice set. "But I'm fixing to find out and kick her back to where she belongs."

At this, Santana turned back to the group of First Year boys she had just passed, "Is there a problem here, _los niñitos_?"

"Yea, there is," the first boy, who Santana recognized as the ginger kid named Rick, replied. "Your little friend there isn't a Slytherin."

"She isn't?" Santana questioned innocently as she glanced back at Brittany over her shoulder. The Gryffindor's bright colors stood in stark contrast to all of her surroundings.

"You know she isn't. She doesn't belong here."

"Yea," the boy next to him, Azimio seconded.

"Really? Because I think it looks like she belongs just fine," Santana shrugged.

"Either you ask her to leave, or we will make her," Rick stepped towards her.

Santana laughed at his attempt to look menacing before dropping her voice, "Listen here, you stupid little boys, you step within twenty feet of my friend over there, and I will make sure you don't live long enough to hear that high-pitched prissy voice of yours drop, _entiendes_?"

"Y-You don't scare me," Rick replied, though the hesitance in his voice stated otherwise.

"Oh really?" Santana placed her things on a nearby shelf and pulled out her wand, running a finger down the length of it. "Were you in Defense Against the Dark Arts the other day, Little Richard?"

"Yea…"

"Well, then you know that I didn't get to finish my lesson on the Unforgivable Curses," Santana reminded. "You see, I never even got to teach everyone the proper incantations. Now, for the Cruciatis Curse, you have to raise your wand like so," Santana demonstrated, holding her wand up, aimed right in between the red head's eyes. "Then you wave it like this and recite the word, Cruc—"

"Wait!" Rick squeaked, his entire body visibly shaking in front of Santana's wand. "Wait, please, I get it. I won't do it."

"Won't do what?" Santana demanded, her wand still at the ready.

"I won't mess with your friend."

"And…" she prompted.

"And I won't alert her not being a Slytherin to anyone else. She…she's welcome here anytime," Rick promised.

"Good," Santana smirked as she lowered her wand. "Have a good day, children."

She replaced her wand and gathered back up her things before turning and making her way over to the table where her friends sat waiting.

"Keep that up, and your reputation will catch on even faster than I predicted," Quinn chuckled from behind her book.

"All in a day's work," Santana shrugged as she spread out all of her belonging on the table. "Ready to get to work?"

Brittany nodded eagerly, her smile wide and her eyes determined.


	5. Year 1 Chapter 5

Santana yawned, rubbing her eyes agitatedly as she plopped onto the grass next to a worn out broom. It was only the second week of class, and she already knew that Wednesdays were going to be her least favorite day throughout the rest of the school year. It was the longest day of classes, starting early with History of Magic, a class she all but drooled through that morning as Professor Bletheim droned on an on about some rebellion or revolution or something that happened a long, long time ago, followed by Transfiguration with Hufflepuff. She had the unfortunate luck of her and Quinn's table being right next to the wannabe giant Finn Hudson and his friend Noah Puckerman's. The unfortunate part came in the facts that not only were they Hufflepuff, but Finn was more prone to blowing things up than transfiguring them. She briefly pondered wearing a hazmat suit to their next Transfiguration class, but realized that would probably be most definitely against uniform regulations. After that, she got a break for lunch, but now it was back with Hufflepuff for Flying. After all that, she would still have one more class, Astronomy, at midnight that night.

Santana sighed. Long didn't even begin to describe her day.

"You are going to get grass stains like that," Quinn pointed out as she stood beside the next broom.

"Grass is green; it'll match," Santana shrugged, despite the fact that she had stood up and dusted off her robes. Her mother would flip if she ever got wind of Santana's robes being stained.

"What is going on with the boys?" Quinn asked, motioning to the group of First Year Hufflepuff and Slytherin boys gathered in a tight circle, seemingly set against one another.

"Probably arguing over who is going to have the best crash today," Santana rolled her eyes. "My money is on Karofsky. His nose dive into the groundskeeper's hut last week was inspiring."

It was Quinn's turn to roll her eyes.

"Afraid to bet because you know I'm right?"

"A true lady does not gamble."

"A true lady goes through life without knowing the meaning of the word 'fun'," Santana countered with provoking smirk.

Quinn sighed, "Oh, alright. My money is on Noah. He is far too cocky for someone so small. Reminds me of someone…"

Santana narrowed her eyes at Quinn's pointed gaze, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that in approximately 90 minutes you will be owing me two Galleons."

"Just two?" Santana raised an eyebrow.

Quinn's mouth twitched, and Santana stuck her hand out before Quinn took back the bet altogether.

"Two it is," Santana nodded as they shook on it. She turned back to the group of boys watching them curiously. "I still don't get it, though. Earlier, in Transfiguration, the Slytherin boys did not want to have anything to do with the Hufflepuff boys and vice versa."

"It is just boys being boys," Rachel waved towards the group of First Years tiredly as she walked along the row of brooms, trying to select the right ones.

"Okay, someone hand me a mallet," Santana demanded. "It is time to play whack a hobbit."

Quinn put a hand a hand out, halting her, "What are they being boys about now?"

Rachel stopped next to a broom and squatted down to inspect it. She looked up, clearly shocked at being addressed in a near-normal way by the pristine blonde, "Quidditch try-outs."

"Quidditch try-outs?" Santana questioned. "What does that have to do with them? First Years aren't allowed to try-out for the Quidditch team. They have to have a special invitation."

"Not this year," Rachel shook her head as she stood up and moved on to another broom, clearly not satisfied with the one before her. "First Years are being allowed to try-out. The team captains and Coach Tenaka have been posting flyers about it all afternoon. They were on the bulletin board in the Common Room after lunch. Slytherin's try-outs are tomorrow."

"And those goons think they have a chance of making the team?" Santana snorted. "Please."

"They have a better chance of gaining a position in the Ministry of Magic by tomorrow night than of making the House Team," Quinn giggled.

"What about you two?" Rachel asked, finally settling on a broom, a good ways down the row from them.

Thankfully, Santana thought to herself. "What about us?"

"Will you be trying out? Girls are allowed on the team, you know?"

"Just because girls are allowed, does not mean it is a suitable past time for a girl to be participating in," Quinn replied airily. "It is practically barbaric."

Santana nodded. She could still remember the look on her mother's face when she had entered the kitchen, her hair windswept and eyes dancing in excitement after her father had taken her on a ride around the estate on his broom for the first time, and declared that she wanted to become a professional Quidditch player when she grew up. Needless to say, Lady Lopez shut down that thought right away, telling her that no daughter of hers would ever be caught dead playing such a masculine sport.

"That type of thinking is what is barbaric," Rachel replied, moving to yet another broom.

Quinn's eyes widened, "Excuse—"

But Santana cut her off, "What in the world are you doing, anyway? Pick a damn broom and stay with it. Your back and forth is making me dizzy."

"I am choosing a broom. In _The Art of Flying: A Beginner's Guide_, it is stated that the first step to achieve flight is to pick a proper broomstick, one that is nice and straight with all of its straw intact and lined up in precise rows. Now, I know it is impossible to find such a broom with the selection that we have, but I am trying to find the closest thing to it."

"What is with her?" Quinn whispered, turning to Santana whose shoulders were shaking with laughter. "What?"

"_The Art of Flying_ is one of those self-help guides that supposedly tell you, step-by-step, how to do the most basic of magic things," Santana whispered. She did not add that she had seen her driver, Brad, reading several such books when she was younger. Quinn didn't need to know that, and she hadn't seen him reading them for quite some time now, anyway.

"So…" Quinn began, her hands clasping behind her back in an innocent manner. "What does this book say to do next?"

"Well," Rachel adjusted her tie nervously. "It says to stand on the side of your broom with your dominant hand on the inside. Then, you put all your focus onto said hand and the broom and give a confident command of 'Up'. The broom will rise, and you place both hands firmly on the handle before lifting one leg over the broom to straddle it. You adjust your weight until it is in the dead center, lean forward, and off you go."

"Just like that?" Santana smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Just like that," Rachel nodded.

"So, you think that after reading this book, you will be able to fly like the best of them?"

"Well, perhaps not the best of them, I mean, I am only a beginner at the craft, but I suppose I will be able to fly moderately well at first, advancing to the best of them after a few lessons. The book is written by an expert wizard who has spent hours and hours running experiments and deciphering the data in order to give the general public a book that will allow them to fly as if they have been doing it their entire lives."

"So, wait," Santana was now laughing openly. "The book wasn't even written by an expert flyer, but by a scientist?"

"Who spent hours—"

"No amount of time in a lab is going to prepare you for being a hundred feet in the air with nothing in between you and the ground other than a stick of wood."

"We'll see," Rachel crossed her arms stubbornly.

"Do you now know who her father is?" Quinn questioned. "Slytherin was three for three in Quidditch Cups under his captaincy. I think she knows a bit more about flying than you do."

"Let her be," Santana held a hand out to stop her friend's defense. "I could use a good laugh, and she could use a good knocking back down to her place."

Quinn shook her head, "Her funeral."

"Alright you bunch of Nancy Girls, line up!" a gruff voice commanded, and Santana looked up to see Coach Tenaka, the flying instructor, walking over to them.

"Should I be offended at being called a Nancy Girl?" Quinn turned to Santana in confusion.

Santana shrugged and stood up straight next to her broom.

"On my count, command your broom!" he instructed, bringing a whistle in between his rounded cheeks. "Three…two…one…"

At the sound of the whistle a series of 'up's' could be heard throughout the practice field.

"Up," Santana commanded.

Her broom wiggled.

She straightened up, eyeing her broom sternly. "Up."

It wiggled harder.

"Up, _pedazo de mierda!_" she growled, and the broom shot up, slapping against her hand. "Ow!" her yell was drowned out in the chorus of 'up's' that was still being commanded. She looked around, realizing she was the first one to get her broom in her hand. Quinn met her eye with a frown before turning back to her own broom.

"Up..." She cleared her throat, "Up."

Quinn's broom rose, and she caught it smoothly. Hazel eyes turned towards brown in gloat. Santana shrugged. So what if her hand would be bruised for days? She was still the first one to get her broom up.

One by one the rest of the students got their brooms to obey until every student stood with broom in hand—Santana's smirk grew at the knowledge that Rachel's was one of the last brooms to rise.

"On my count, mount your broom!" Coach Tenaka instructed. "Three...two...one..."

The whistle blew, and Santana grabbed her broom firmly in both hands, pushing it down some like her father had shown her so that it was at a reachable height, and carefully mounted it. She released her pressure on the broom, and it rose back to its normal height, hovering over the ground, her toes barely grazing the grass. This task took much less time for the other students to complete—although, Rachel did manage to flip completely over the broom on her first try and had to get assistance on her second.

Next was the boring part of the class where each student had a turn to try and fly to the far end of the practice pitch and back. Last class, nobody had completed the task. Santana had come the closest, but when she reached the far wall of the pitch and went to turn, her broom went crazy and bucked her completely off before flying away. She had to walk the whole way back on her own two feet. She prayed that she did better this time. Her father had taught her how to mount a broom, but he had never let her fly on her own, and flying on a top of the line broom under her father's hand and supervision was vastly different from flying on a splintered twig all by herself.

One bye one, she watched as her classmates tried and failed to complete the task. Finn Hudson did come close to finishing, much to Santana's confusion and dismay. But when he was nearly back to where the group of First Years was gathered, he threw his hands in the air in victory, and fell off the side of his broom. Next was Noah Puckerman who made it all the way to the opposite side, but never made the turn, instead flying straight into the wall of the Quidditch pitch.

"Ready to pay up?" Quinn smiled smugly from where she sat on her broom next to her.

Santana just waved her off as the round boy, Karofsky, kicked off the ground and his broom took flight. His broom flew high into the air at a sharp angle. Santana had to squint to be able to see the tiny dot that was Karofsky high among the clouds. Next thing she knew, that tiny dot was approaching the ground, just as quickly as it had taken off. Karofsky plummeted into the ground, broom first, not three feet from where he had started. A sickening crack followed by the boy's cries filled the pitch.

"What was that?!" Tenaka yelled as he hurried over to the crumpled First Year. "Azimio, come here and help this idiot to the infirmary. It looks like he broke his arm."

"I think I'm dying, Coach" Karofsky cried as Azimio helped him up.

"Boy, you are not dying; you are merely stinking up my field! Now get out of my sight."

Karofsky wimpered as Azimio led him off the pitch and towards the hospital wing.

Santana grinned, sitting up straighter on her broom, "That's my boy."

Coach Tenaka called Rachel up next. The tiny brunette took a deep breath as Tenaka pulled her broom to the front of the group before taking a step back. "On my whistle," he commanded. "Three...two...one..."

At the sound of the whistle, Rachel kicked off of the ground and leaned forward. Instead of broom flying towards the far wall, however, it shot backwards, nearly taking out Coach Tenaka in the process. Rachel hastily pulled up on the nose of the broom before she rammed into the wall behind her, and she slid right off the back of the broom despite her death grip on the handle, landing with a hard thump on the ground.

"I should have bet on her," Quinn shook her head.

Santana burst into laughter.

"Alright Lopez, you're up next," Coach Tenaka called out.

The laughter died in Santana's throat as Tenaka pulled her by the broom to the front of the crowd. His whistle blew, and Santana pushed off the ground carefully. Her path to the end of the pitch was wobbly, but she held her course. She slowed as she reached the turn and took it much easier than she had the previous week, guiding the broom through the curve instead of forcing it. She let out a sigh of relief when she made it through the turn still planted firmly on the broom. Her flight back was steadier than the flight there, but still a bit shaky. The broom was old, and her small arms were already growing tired from forcing it to stay straight. She slowed as she returned to the group of First Years and carefully came to a stop just as her father had taught her. She dismounted her broom and turned to the flying instructor with a confident smirk, fighting back the excitement that was bubbling under her skin as she realized she had just successfully completed her first solo flight.

Coach Tenaka nodded at her, making a mark next to her name on the clipboard he was holding before calling out to the final person on the list who had not flown yet: Quinn Fabray.

Quinn's flight, while slower than Santana's and a bit wobblier, kept Santana on the edge of her toes. She was on her way back when Santana realized that Quinn might just make it, and she wouldn't be the only First Year in Slytherin and Hufflepuff to complete their first task in just their second week. As she approached the group, though, Santana could see there was something wrong. Quinn's broom was becoming wobblier and wobblier. She narrowed her eyes, and realized that Quinn's grip was nowhere near tight enough on the broom's handle. Now Santana was on her toes for an entirely different reason. Quinn's broom jerked left before jerking sharply back in the other direction, and Santana held her breath as Quinn let go of the broom completely and fell to the ground, rolling softly in the grass before stopping on bent knee.

Santana let out a relieved breath for her friend before her smirk reformed; she was still the only First Year in Hufflepuff and Slytherin to have completed the task.

"You see that, class?" Coach Tenaka called excitedly as he rushed over to Quinn and helped her up onto her feet. "That is how you successfully dismount a broom in an emergency situation: tuck, roll, and rise onto your knee to survey your surroundings. Let's have a round of applause for Miss Fabray."

The class applauded Quinn as she returned to the group. Santana clapped twice before her arms fell back to her sides with a roll of her eyes.

"You still owe me two Galleons," she informed Quinn as they made their way back to the Common Room to get ready for supper.

"Jealousy does not suit you, Santana."

"Bite me, _Quinny_."

* * *

><p>"I am just saying," Santana continued as they made their way up the spiral staircase to the top of the Astronomy tower for their first lesson. They hadn't had Astronomy the first week of the term thanks to Peeves the Poltergiest holing himself up in the tower in order to throw water balloons down at the students from a near-deadly height—a Second Year Gryffindor was still in the hospital wing with a severe concussion. "They keep me awake this late, then the least they could do is have a bit of tea waiting for us up there."<p>

"Well, word has it that Professor Castle does like herself a bit of a drink here and there, if you're thirsty," Lauren Zises, a Slytherin First Year who was the size of a third year, piped up from behind her and Quinn.

"Not the kind of drink I had in mind, but nice to know," Santana nodded thoughtfully.

The group of Slytherin First Years made their way through the door at the top of the tower to find the 'classroom' completely empty void a fire pit in the center of the structure, lighting up the night. Santana and Quinn immediately set out to pick the perfect vantage point for setting up their telescopes: not perfect to see the stars, but perfect in that it was right next to turret containing the door to the stairs so that only one side of their work space was open for another pair to work, leaving them as secluded as they could be. Quinn liked it quiet when she worked; Santana was tired of being constantly surrounded by idiots.

The door next to them opened and a middle-aged teacher with unnaturally red hair and a rectangular pair of black glasses stumbled through.

"Hey-o!" she grinned when she steadied herself out.

"Something tells me Zises's assessment of a "bit" of a drink was an understatement," Santana rolled her eyes.

"Alright class, I am Professor Brenda Castle, and this is First Year Astronomy. If you would all set up your books and turn your telescopes to page, wait..." Professor Castle giggled. "Switch that. Reverse. You know what I mean, hold on...we're missing some people. Where is the other House?"

"Man," Santana groaned. "I had been hoping we would have it solo like with Charms and History of Magic."

"As long as it is not Hufflepuff again. I do not think I can stand three classes with them in one day," Quinn admitted.

The sound of arguing voices could be heard making their way up the tower. The door next to them opened and a small blonde pushed her way through. The fire ring in the middle of the class danced inside blue eyes.

"Score," Brittany nodded as she looked around before turning back to the rest of the Gryffindor First Years that were making their way out onto the top of the Astronomy tower. "I told you I could find it."

"Yea, after nearly getting us killed by some three-headed dog," a boy with a baby soft face replied as he straightened his scarf.

Santana wondered if anybody informed him that it was practically still summer out.

"Alright, now, settle down," Professor Castle raised her hands to get their attention. "Gryffindor, go on and partner up and find a spot to set up shop. We are already a week and a few minutes behind schedule, so we have a lot to do, and I have somewhere to be."

"Yea, a bar!" a voice that sounded an awful lot like Lauren's shouted out.

The Gryffindors quickly split up into pairs as they masked their snickering behind hands, everybody grabbing somebody and ignoring Brittany as she asked around for a partner. Soon, it was down to just Brittany and the girl from the Great Lake with round cheeks and crazy hair. Mercedes, Santana remembered.

Mercedes looked around with a hint of exasperation before she sighed, "Oh, it's cause I'm black, isn't it?"

Santana snorted out a laugh as Mercedes took the dejected looking girl by the arm and led her over to the only available spot left, right next to Quinn and Santana.

"Hey Brittany," Santana greeted.

"Hey!" Brittany's expression immediately lifted. "I didn't know we were having Astronomy with y'all."

"Looks like it," Santana nodded.

"Hey Quinn," Brittany smiled across Santana at the hazel eyed girl who was busy making last minute adjustments to her telescope.

"Hey," Quinn replied absentmindedly.

"Quinn takes this kind of stuff seriously," Santana explained.

Quinn sighed, "If by this kind of stuff, you mean school and my education and my future and my family name, then yes, Santana, I take it very seriously."

"Whoa," Mercedes's eyes widened. "Angry white girl."

"Totally," Brittany nodded.

Santana chortled, before holding a hand out, "Santana Lopez."

"Mercedes Jones," Mercedes eyed her carefully before returning the handshake. "Lopez, huh? Like Lord Lopez?"

"So you've heard of me," Santana stood as tall as she could.

"I've heard of your father," Mercedes corrected. "My dad double times in the Muggle world too; he's a dentist."

Santana's shoulders fell.

"Don't worry," Brittany placed a hand on the back of her shoulder, "I had never heard of you or your parents, and we still turned out to be friends."

Santana wanted to point out that it wasn't friendship that she was after in this instance, but Brittany had already moved on and started assembling her telescope. As Santana watched her, she found herself wondering if she would have let this friendship of sorts ever happen if Brittany had known who her parents were, if she would have thought more of the small girl than she did all those wannabes from her previous school that had followed her around, hanging on her every word simply because of her title; furthermore, she wondered if Brittany would've even wanted to be her friend if she was familiar with her family.

Santana shook her head, of course she would. In the Muggle world, the story of the Lopez title and her father's rise to power was one for the storybooks, and in the Wizarding World, well...in the Wizarding world, _her_ story was the stuff of legends. The merging of two of the most powerful Wizard families, the Lopezes and the Blacks, through matrimony and the production of a singular heir: Santana Marie Lopez.

She found herself holding her head higher at her own thoughts, realizing that she had just found a way to quicken even further her rise to the top. Before, at primary school—a mostly Muggle School that was one of the most expensive private school's in the country, which of course was why her mother insisted she attend there—they knew her as Lady Santana Lopez, daughter of Earl Lopez, a wealthy and highly influential surgeon who was the doctor of choice to royalty. But as for her mother, a woman whose family was pure wizard and nothing less, her Muggle peers knew nothing of; she was merely Lord Lopez's young trophy wife to them. Here, though, her mother's family _was_ the royalty. The Blacks were a family of pure blood wizards that could trace their bloodline back to the beginning of written records. They had more money than they knew what to do with and more fear-based respect than any other family in current existence. When Evelyn Black married Lord Lopez, prized healer of the highest Ministry of Magic officials, it was one for the record books. Then, when Santana was born, the two families were sealed together permanently, not through law, but through blood.

Santana's eyes moved around the open aired room, taking in her classmates. They knew her as Santana, her professors as Miss Lopez, but had any of them put the two together? And if they had, had they realized that she wasn't just one of the dozens of Santana Lopez's that had popped up after her birth as people started to copy the oft gossiped about name, but _the_ Santana Lopez. The very Santana Lopez that many of their parents sent gifts to as news of her birth spread and still send gifts to despite never having met her?

The left side of Santana's mouth curled upwards. At her primary school, she was Lady Santana, daughter of an Earl. That is the side her peers knew; that is the side she played to. But now, she was realizing that she had an entirely different audience. They didn't care about some girl whose father was an Earl in the Muggle world. But the girl whose very being signified the unification of two of the most powerful and feared families in Wizard history? Her, they'll most definitely care about.

"Santana?"

Santana's eyes blinked rapidly as the sound of her name shook her out of her thoughts. She found Quinn, Brittany, and Mercedes all staring at her, seemingly waiting for something.

"Where'd you go?" Brittany asked.

"I have the feeling we probably do not want to know the answer to that," Quinn replied, eyeing her friend wearily.

"Why are you all staring at me?" Santana asked in confusion.

"Blondie here asked if you needed help setting up your telescope," Mercedes motioned towards Brittany. "And you just stood there, ignoring us while you were busy looking the like Grinch on Christmas Eve."

"Oh, my telescope," Santana jumped right to work, pulling it out of the box and opening the instructions. "I nearly forgot."

"Because who would think you'd need a telescope for Astronomy," Mercedes eyes gauged her cautiously before she shook her head. "I can see why you and Blondie are friends."

"You know, she has a name," Santana replied, straightening up after she had carefully placed her telescope on its stand and fastened it into place. She could see the calculating look in Mercedes' eyes as she took her in once more.

After a moment's pause, Mercedes nodded, "You're right, my bad."

Santana nodded and turned back to her telescope to finish setting it up.

++gw++

Santana huffed as she made her way back down through the dungeons towards the Slytherin House. After the long day she'd had, it was as if her feet gained an extra ten pounds with each step she took. The huge telescope she was lugging on her back was not helping matters either. Quinn shuffled her own telescope from one shoulder to the other as she walked next to Santana, looking equally as tired. Santana cleared her throat when she could no longer ignore the feeling of her friend's eyes boring a hole into the side of her head.

"I know my hair is worthy of worship, Q, but you aren't going to find the answers to the universe there."

"Were _did_ you go earlier?" Quinn questioned as she slowed her steps, putting even more distance between the pair of them and the rest of their classmates up ahead.

"To a freaking epiphany," Santana raised her arms, excitedly, suddenly not so tired at the remembrance of her plan. "I cannot believe I hadn't thought of it. All those years at the Muggle school has nearly caused me to forget the very importance of my being. I spent so much time playing a Muggle with my Muggle peers, that I nearly forgot who I am in the Wizard world."

"And who is that?" Quinn asked, only half-interested.

"Royalty," Santana nodded.

Quinn openly scoffed.

"I'm serious," Santana shoved her. With her tired arms, though, she didn't even cause Quinn to stumble.

"Okay, okay, and you are royalty how?"

"Come on, Q, you know who my parents are. You know where they come from."

Quinn shrugged, but her eyes darkened.

Santana's smile grew. Quinn did know the story of her family. She had seen the way her eyes would flash green with envy every time they were out and about in the Wizard world and somebody recognized Santana or her name. She had seen the way Quinn smirked whenever she would forgettingly threaten a teacher at her primary school with 'Wait until my mother hears about this', and the teacher would only laugh. She could practically read the words pressed behind Quinn's lips: _Not so famous now, huh?_

"So what are you planning on doing about it? Go around handing out flyers with your family tree on it?" Quinn replied.

"No, you were right the other day. It has to happen naturally, subtlety. It'll just be another notch on the 'Why Everyone Should Bow Down To Santana Lopez' pole."

"The anticipation is killing me," Quinn rolled her eyes as they entered their Common Room and made their way up the couple of stairs to the dorms.

* * *

><p>Santana walked over to the tree which she had lay under the previous weekend and looked around before settling under its branches, watching as the dropping sun's rays stretched across the right side of the lake. She was supposed to meet Brittany here and bring her back to the Slytherin dorm so they could work on their Potions homework. It was Thursday, the day of Slytherin's Quidditch tryouts, so Professor Sylvester had cancelled class for the day, but set an inordinate amount of homework that would be due Friday's lesson the next day. As Quinn had pointed out, Santana had known about the assignment all week, but that didn't mean that she didn't have better things to do than hunch over a bunch of books every evening.<p>

"Hey," a soft voice caused Santana to nearly jump out of her skin. She was on her feet in an instant, looking all about for the origin of the voice. A gentle tug to her hair caused her to spin around and come face to face with an upside-down Brittany S. Pierce. "Hey," Brittany repeated with a goofy smile.

"Hey," Santana smiled back as she took a step back to fully take Brittany in. The blue-eyed girl was hanging upside down with her legs hooked over a branch, her untucked uniform shirt sliding down, or perhaps it would be up, her stomach. "Brittany," Santana shook her head with a soft laugh as Brittany righted herself and sat atop the branch. "What are you doing in a tree?"

"Watching."

"Watching what?"

"The dance," Brittany motioned around them.

"Well, how about you take a break and come work with me on our Potions homework?"

"Okay," Brittany nodded, gathering her bag that was hanging off of a short branch and jumping out of the tree, landing lightly on her feet before Santana could finish her cautioned, "Careful."

"Nervous?" Brittany questioned, an eyebrow raised.

"With you? Always," Santana admitted truthfully.

Brittany giggled and Santana joined in, leading the way down to the Slytherin dungeon.

++gw++

A loud clamoring at the door caused Santana to look up from her homework with a scowl. Didn't people know that she was trying to be a good student? When she took in the sight of a group of her fellow first years filing through the door, covered in grass and mud and looking thoroughly dejected, though, she couldn't help but let out a loud laugh. Quinn looked up, and covered her mouth to stifle her giggle.

"I take it things did not go as planned?" Santana questioned as Rick passed, limping.

"Shut up, Lopez," he bit back.

Santana cocked an eyebrow, "How about a black eye to go with that bloody nose of yours?"

He swallowed and slouched away, through the door that led to the boys' dormitories.

"What's going on?" Brittany asked. "And why does everyone look like they just ran with the bulls? I thought that was a Spanish thing. Aren't we in Britain?"

"Quidditch tryouts," Santana replied before reaching out to stop a muddied Lauren Zises as she passed. Santana pulled her hand back and wiped it on a nearby book bag that appeared to have been left behind by its owner. "What happened? Why is it just First Years that are coming back?"

"They said we were slowing down the tryouts, so they kicked us out," Lauren frowned before continuing on her way towards the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

"Oh yeah," Brittany nodded. "Quidditch. Professor Holiday was talking about that the other day."

"Yeah, I heard Gryffindor's tryouts are Saturday," Santana replied. "Don't know what time though. They've been very secretive about it all week."

"Why does it matter what time they are?" Quinn questioned.

"Because I was planning on planting a few stink bombs in the locker room while they were out on the field, so all of their stuff would smell nice and ripe when they were done. You know, as a sort of reminder of how bad their team is going to stink up the field this year."

"A stink bomb, Santana? Really? Could you be any more juvenile?"

"Got any better ideas?"

"None that are going to be wasted on some stupid tryouts."

"Or maybe you still have a soft spot for Gryffindor."

"Shut up, Lopez, before I make you shut up," Quinn's voice came out in a low growl.

Santana rolled her eyes, but went back to her homework. She knew the Gryffindor subject was still a sore one, and that she may have went too far with that comment, but nobody called her ideas stupid or juvenile.

"Well, either way, it doesn't matter," she shrugged. "Because nobody from Gryffindor is talking."

"Looks like you'll have to find another occasion to send your message," Quinn nodded.

Santana gave a small smile that Quinn returned before she continued her essay. It was the closest thing to an apology either of them was going to give.

++gw++

'_And that is why, despite its seeming uselessness, the Flobberworm has a useful amount of usefulness in Potions making_,' Santana finished off her essay on the many uses of Flobberworm mucus with a frown. "Good enough," she muttered, rubbing her eyes before looking at her left hand with a groan. It was covered in ink, ink that would do doubtedly now be all over her face.

"I hate quills."

"Me too," Brittany nodded, finishing off her own essay with a sentence that made about as much sense as Santana's. They were up past midnight for the second day in a row, and their essays had stopped being coherent about an forty-five minutes ago. Even Quinn had grown tired of repeating her mantra of "I told you so" over and over and gone to bed.

"I wish we could use pencils like in primary school," Santana sighed, rubbing the side of her hand on a spare bit of parchment. "Even the pens we used never smeared this bad. Being a lefty sucks something major."

"I just find it so plain," Brittany contemplated the essay before her. "It's just so boring and black. I have enough trouble with words without them all looking the same and blending together. Plus, colored ink is so much more fun."

Santana nodded in agreement before she sighed and started putting all of her things back in her book bag. Brittany did the same and soon the entire table was cleared. Santana looked around and realized that they were the only two left still in the Common Room.

"Like this," Brittany gave a tired smile as she waved her arm to the room around her. "Everything in here looks green and wonderful. It's like I'm wearing green lensed sunglasses when I'm in here."

"You don't find it too gloomy?" Santana asked, watching as Brittany made her way around the room. She followed her slowly.

"Gloomy? Of course not. Green is the color of grass and trees. It's the color of nature. It's the color of life," she replied simply.

Santana smiled as they stopped at the door that led back out into the hallway.

"Do _you_ think it's too gloomy?"

"Sometimes it feels more like home than home ever did; other times I feel claustrophobic," she shrugged, knowing that if she were any less tired, she would not be being this honest.

"Well, thank you for doing your homework with me," Brittany caught her gaze. "Focusing has never been my strong suit, so it helps to have someone there, making sure I get it done."

"It's no problem," Santana waved her off. "I mean, I had to do mine anyway, so it's not a big deal..."

Brittany tilted her head, holding her eyes when she tried to look away.

"And you know, you're my friend, and like, friend's do stuff like this and help each other and stuff," she finished with a gulp, wondering where the sudden nerves were coming from.

Brittany gave a soft giggle, and Santana felt her ears heating up.

"What?"

"You haven't had a lot of friends besides Quinn, have you?"

"I have had plenty of friends," Santana argued. "I was extremely popular at my old school."

"Being popular and having friends are two different things," she shook her head.

"No, they are not."

"Yes, they are," she giggled again. "How many of these people you were popular with would visit you when you were sick, or tell you honestly if you were having a bad hair day, or would keep your biggest secret even if they knew it could ruin your entire reputation?"

Santana's ears were burning hot now.

"How many of them have kept in touch now that you go to different schools?"

Santana clenched her fists tightly at her sides.

"Santana, it's okay," Brittany soothed, reaching for her arm.

Santana backed away, "No, it's not. You are making fun of me, and I do not like being made fun of. I do the teasing, its not the other way around, and if you knew what I am capable of—"

"It's okay," Brittany repeated, blue eyes completely open and earnest. "I wasn't laughing at you; friends don't do that. I just think it's cute."

And just like that, her anger started to subside.

"I'll be your friend, Santana."

And just like that, Santana couldn't even remember why she was upset in the first place, "I-I don't think I'd be very good at it."

"I can teach you."


	6. Year 1 Chapter 6

**A/N:** I know it has been a while, but things got crazy. I went out of town to visit some family before the semester started, and when I'm with family I do a technology blackout. Then the semester started, and it took me a while to find my school and work balance. Then I had the bright idea to agree when asked to join my university's speech and debate team so there goes my weekends. Next thing I knew, it was midterms, and I hadn't updated in forever. So I started to write. And write. And write. Until I realized yesterday that I had more than enough to update. I get kind of caught up with things as you can tell, lol. So yeah, I'm really sorry. Good news is, I should have another update up by Friday. If not, it won't be until next week because I have a tournament this weekend. So yeah, I'm really sorry. Also, I may kind of have a surprise coming out sometime soon for you guys, so be looking out for that. And, I think that's it. Enjoy!

Also, I just realized that somewhere along the way, this site stopped allowing plus signs to be posted in a straight line without letters or numbers breaking this up which is how I normally post breaks in my chapters that are significant enough for an actual line straight across. So, I am really sorry if Chapters 3-5 were hard to follow because of their lack of scene breaks; I just hadn't realized they weren't showing. I've gone back and edited them so that they should read a lot smoother now.

* * *

><p>++GW++<p>

"The assignment is on the board," Professor Sylvester instructed. "We are not going to move on from the herbicide potion until at least a quarter of you useless drones can produce a semi-decent one. I don't think I have ever seen such poor aptitude for potion making in my life…and to think, my own House is in here. It is just sad. I would cry if I hadn't had my tear ducts removed years ago. No use for them." She pointed towards the board, "You may begin now. Leave your homework on your desk so I can examine it while you work."

Santana's fingers shuffled through her book bag before landing on her homework assignment and pulling it out, careful not to tear it. She placed the paper on her desk, running her hands over it to smooth out any wrinkles. Brittany tossed her assignment next to it, and Santana had to fight the urge to release it from its rumpled state.

Professor Sylvester inched closer to their table, and Santana sat up straighter. She made sure to add exactly three measurements of her crushed ingredients into the cauldron as the potion's master neared so that her potion would bubble up at just the right time.

"Not enough lionfish spine. It's a herbicide potion, not fertilizer," Professor Sylvester frowned.

The wand moving about her cauldron halted as Santana faltered, "Y-yes ma'am."

Professor Sylvester picked up Brittany's paper, her eyes skimming quickly. "Not bad, Pierce," she nodded, placing the paper back down as a red C+ appeared on it.

"Awesome," Brittany smiled.

Professor Sylvester flicked her wand towards Santana's paper and a red C appeared.

"But—" Santana began, her voice dropping off when Professor Sylvester turned to her with a provoking glare. "Y-you didn't even look at it," Santana managed, all too aware of her classmates' eyes that were all trained on her.

"My apologies," Professor Sylvester gave a sugary sweet smile that seemed nothing short of menacing on her face. She picked up the paper and read through it carefully before placing it back down and flicking her wand once more. The C remained, but now there stood a glaringly red minus mark next to it, "satisfied?"

"Yes ma'am," Santana's face flushed at the snickering of her peers.

"Don't be embarrassed that you got a lower score than me," Brittany soothed after the professor moved on to the next table. "I think I'm just Professor Sylvester's favorite."

Santana turned to her with a furrowed brow. There were so many things wrong with that statement, that she didn't even know where to begin. Brittany gave her own homework one last proud smile before shoving it back into her bag.

"I'm not embarrassed by that," Santana shook her head. "I'm glad you got a score you're happy about. I just…my mum would flip if she heard about this. Her daughter getting a C- in Potions? Unthinkable."

"Well, we did wait until the last minute to do it," Brittany reminded.

"Yeah, but what happened to me having potential?"

"The bad thing about potential is that you have to live up to it."

Santana looked down at her essay with a frown; she knew that Brittany was right. "I just thought I was her favorite," she mumbled softly.

"No, I'm pretty sure that's me," Brittany nodded.

"Brittany, you are in Gryffindor," Santana reminded.

"So?

"So she's the head of Slytherin."

"So?"

"So you can't be her favorite, that is just not how things work."

"Says who?"

"Says everybody," Santana motioned around them.

"Well, maybe everybody's wrong," Brittany shrugged simply.

Santana stared at her, completely at a loss for a moment. She shook her head and turned back to her homework assignment.

"You know what you have to do next time, right?" Brittany quizzed as Santana put her homework back inside her book bag.

"Not question her grade, I know," she sighed in defeat.

"What? No, you did the right thing. You stood up for yourself and what you believed you deserved."

"Yeah, and look what it got me: and even lower grade. It was stupid."

"It was brave," Brittany corrected, blue eyes somehow sparkling even in the dull dungeon light, "especially since I know how scared of Professor Sylvester you are."

"I'm not scared—" Santana tried to argue.

Brittany just talked over her, "It took guts. I was proud of you."

Santana's eyebrows rose. Those weren't exactly words she heard thrown around often, and she especially did not plan on hearing them for a long, long time after receiving that C minus on her assignment.

Brittany grinned, tapping Santana's nose playfully before turning to her current assignment.

Her touch shook Santana out of her daze, and the brunette scrambled to catch up. "So…what do I have to do next time, then?"

"Live up to your potential."

Santana looked at the potion ingredients before her. Once again, Brittany was right. If she wanted to be the professor's favorite, then she had to surpass the unbelievably high bar her pedigree had set for her. Her eyes scanned the ingredients on the table, and she quickly set to work, correcting her potion according to her professor's comments.

++gw++

Santana approached the desk at the front of the room with her shoulders squared and her head held high. Professor Sylvester held her hand out with a frown. Santana handed her the vial of potion, and stood, waiting for a reaction. Professor Sylvester's frown deepened as she eyed the potion.

"I would say it's mediocre, but to do so would be a gross disservice to all the mediocre potions out there."

Santana opened her mouth, her initial reflex to be to protest out of anger and pride, but her mother's teachings rang clearly in her mind.

_'Don't talk back to an adult, it is a sign of poor breeding.'_

'Never question a professor, it is a sign of great disrespect, and one that reflects poorly on the family.'

And finally, the gravest warning of all, _'What Professor Sylvester says is the final word. If she says jump, you ask 'how high?'. If she says to leap off of the top of the astronomy tower, you do it. Being in her favor, that is what is most important for you right now.'_

Santana's tongue froze, and her head turned, her eyes falling on Brittany as she stuck her tongue out in concentration over the puzzling potion before her.

_'It was brave.'_

_'I was proud of you.'_

"Well, if you have something to say, say it, Lopez. Do not just stand there with your mouth hanging open like the town lunatic. I don't have all day, and you are drooling on my 15th Century desk that was custom made by sweatshop beavers from Italy…"

Santana snapped her mouth shut and turned back to the professor, eyes locking on the vial still in the sharp woman's hand. She took a deep breath, "I'll do better next time." She felt a smile forming in satisfaction. She hadn't talked back to Professor Sylvester, but she hadn't completely backed down either.

"I hope so, next time we will start on antidotes, and I would hate to have to test yours on your dim-witted friend back there for effectiveness."

The smile quickly fell from Santana's face as she glanced back at Brittany once more.

* * *

><p>Santana paced along the dungeons' corridor as other students slowly trickled out of the Potions' classroom. She couldn't figure out what was taking Brittany so long; Santana had gone over the last couple of steps remaining in Brittany's potion with her before walking up to turn in her own. The other girl should have been out by now.<p>

Santana's mind kept going back to Professor Sylvester's threat, and she could not help but worry that the Head of Slytherin had decided that it wasn't worth it to wait until the next class to see if she improved before testing her potion out on Brittany. The fact that it was a herbicide potion not meant for human consumption in the first place did not cross her mind as she wondered if Professor Sylvester had come to the conclusion that Santana just did not have it in her to improve at all, that it was not going to get better than what she had turned in.

A hand on her shoulder caused her to jump.

"You're gonna wear the bottoms of your shoes out like that," Brittany noted with a smile when she turned.

Santana stiffened against the urge to pull the girl into a tight hug right there in the crowd of mixed company of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"We need to talk about this habit you seem to be acquiring of sneaking up on me."

"I called your name, like, twice," Brittany replied with a shrug.

They walked together down the corridor in silence, Santana's thoughts staying behind them in the Potion's classroom. She felt herself getting dizzy as they made their way up the winding staircase, and she had the feeling it was more from her spinning musings than it was from the spiraling structure. They made it to the top, through the archway, and Santana led them through the set of large double doors that led outside. She took a deep breath of air, soaking in the early fall rays, before they started to walk once more, this time with less purpose.

"You seem upset," Brittany spoke softly, breaking their silence as she watched her out of the corner of her eyes.

"Somehow, I think I severely underestimated Professor Sylvester," Santana admitted.

"I think she severely underestimated you," Brittany replied thoughtfully, reaching into her bag to free the growing kitten from inside of it.

"Actually, I think she is starting to realize that she _over_estimated me."

Brittany shook her head, "You didn't see her face as she watched you walk out."

"I think you were in that dungeon, inhaling potion fumes for too long," Santana teased playfully as they caught sight of Mercedes walking with a small boy, both seemingly set on spending every second possible outside, basking in the good weather before Monday arrived and it was time, once again, to be stuffed inside the ancient classrooms, as well.

Brittany just chuckled at her teasing, blue eyes smiling knowingly. Mercedes seemed to notice them, too, because she had stopped her walk in order for them to catch up.

She shook her head as they approached, "How are you still alive?"

Santana's face scrunched in confusion.

"When you talked back to Professor Sylvester, I was fully ready for her to blast you into smithereens and then use your grounds for one of her potions."

"I think you are overreacting," Santana rolled her eyes. Now that she had put some distance between herself and the Potion's dungeon, she was beginning to feel her confidence returning.

"I've heard from several reliable sources that that's her favorite way to deal with unruly students," she insisted.

"I think you need to find better sources," Santana snorted. "Brittany talks back to Professor Sylvester all the time, and she's still alive."

"You can't put Brittany on the same level as everybody else."

Santana stopped in her tracks and turned to Mercedes with narrowed eyes, wondering if she was one of the members of Gryffindor that had refused to allow Brittany into their Common Room after she had caused her fellow First Years to have an extensive homework assignment.

"And why not?"

"Because, once again, Santana," Brittany cut in with a sigh, "I am Professor Sylvester's favorite.

Mercedes raised a finger, her mouth opening as if to protest, but couldn't seem to find the words.

"Plus, I'm kind of a badass," Brittany added with a shrug.

Santana's grin at the statement turned into a loud laugh at the look on Mercedes' face.

They started to walk again, and Mercedes was finally able to vocalize her thoughts.

"I had just meant that Brittany doesn't purposefully talk back. She just…questions a lot."

"Some would say that's even worse than talking back," Santana noted.

"Some would say to question is the very purpose of a human mind," Brittany countered.

A crease formed across her forehead as Santana took in her words.

"That was really kind of thoughtful, Brittany," Mercedes' voice came out shocked.

"There's no 'kind of' about it," Santana corrected.

"Then why the face?" Brittany questioned, raising a finger to smooth across the taller girl's temple.

"Just trying to figure out how it fits in with everything else," Santana admitted. The headache she had felt coming on halted under Brittany's comforting touch. Brittany's words had rang with an assured truth, but they very much went against what had woven its way through her very processes of thinking from lecture after lecture every day for the first eleven years of her life.

"Hey," a voice of practiced softness interrupted her thoughts, and a hand on her upper arm dragged her back to the present as she was yanked to a halt.

Santana scowled at the hazel eyes staring back at her in anger, "Bloody hell, Fabray, what is your problem?"

"My problem? Quinn's grip tightened on her arm when she tried to pull away. "What is _your _problem, Lopez? You cannot talk to Professor Sylvester like that. Have you gone mad? You are going to ruin everything!"

A tiny blonde stepped between them, forcing Quinn's hand back to its owner's side with a strong push and staring up at her fellow blonde with a glare.

"Brittany, we are in the middle of something," Quinn sighed agitatedly.

"Yeah, and now _I'm _in the middle of it," Brittany pointed out.

Santana couldn't help but admire the way Brittany stood up even straighter as Quinn gave her one of the coldest looks Santana had ever seen.

"I do not know about where you are from, but where I'm from, people like you know their place and definitely know not to interrupt a conversation such as this."

"And I don't know about where you're from, but where I'm from, people don't treat their friends like rag dolls, and they certainly don't talk to them like they are interior."

Santana winced; Brittany had been doing so well until that last word.

"It's okay, Brittany," she cut in just before Quinn could pounce on the mistake and verbally rip her to shreds for it. "We were just talking."

"That's not what it looked like," Brittany replied.

"Really, Santana?" Quinn laughed, catching her eyes over Brittany's head. "This is the company you choose to keep now? No wonder you behaved like a proper heathen in Potions earlier."

"You were the one that insisted on letting her stay in our compartment," Santana reminded.

"Even the best of us make mistakes," Quinn smirked.

Santana's hands clenched at her sides, her voice coming out through clenched teeth, "I think Brittany's right; you need to go."

"I never said she had to go," Brittany finally turned to face her. "I just wanted her to let go of you and change the way she was speaking to you. If she fixed that, then—"

"No, Britt," Santana held Quinn's eyes. "She needs to go. Now."

Brittany nodded, able to see the way the muscles in her jaw jumped, even through the youthful roundness of her cheeks now that she was looking at her.

"Whatever," Quinn replied, her eyes faltering. "You want to throw away everything your parents worked for by hanging out with people like this and acting like you did, far be it from me to try and talk some sense into you. Heaven knows you would never listen, anyway."

Santana tensed, glaring even after Quinn had walked off with a flip of her hair.

"Come see, Lord Tubbington," Brittany's coos caused Santana to turn and watch as Mercedes handed back the kitten that had been transferred to her at some point to be kept from harm's way. "I'm sorry you had to see me that way," Brittany scratched behind his ear as she snuggled into his fur, kissing him softly. Her eyes met Santana's, and she gave a shy smile.

Santana returned the smile, getting the feeling the apology wasn't meant for just the kitten's ears. She wanted to let her know that it was okay, that she understood the inability to control her anger, but she was far too aware of the other two sets of eyes on them. In a way, though, she was actually thankful for their presence, because she was sure she would have just struggled with the words if they hadn't been there.

"This is my kind of Friday," the young boy with the perfectly combed hair and a voice that was high-pitched, even for pre-pubescent standards smiled next to Mercedes, his eyes dancing with excitement.

"Kurt Hummel, ladies and gentlemen," Mercedes laughed.

++gw++

The four of them continued to wonder around aimlessly for the rest of the afternoon, conversing in small talk and jokes. Santana had learned that Mercedes was from London where her mother worked in the International Magical Office of Law at the Ministry and her father was a dentist. She also learned that Kurt lived alone with his father who owned a broom dealership in Denmark.

Santana readjusted the strap of her book bag across her shoulder and refrained from asking whether Mercedes' father was a Muggle, as his occupation would suggest, or what had made Kurt's mother abandon him and his father, despite her curiosity. She knew to do so in the midst of such congenial conversation would be rude and, not to mention, ill-advised, seeing as these were not only the people Brittany had to live and deal with on a day-to-day basis, but also the closest thing she had to friends in her own house. So, Santana made note of both questions and set them aside until a more opportune time. Whether that time would be for answers or power, she was unsure, and would probably remain unsure until she found out the lengths of the pair's involvement in Gryffindor's scheme to lock Brittany out of the one home she had for thousands of miles. Santana clenched her fists, willing her anger to subside as she reminded herself that this was not the proper time.

Brittany's voice once again served as a distraction as the American offered her own history. Santana refocused on the conversation, learning that Brittany was from the southern part of a state called Arizona where her mother was a teacher and her father, the owner of a repair shop.

The small group settled on a spot somewhere between the castle and the practice pitch, enjoying the seclusion as most students had opted to head for the lake instead. Santana sat down, feeling three sets of eyes on her. She looked back in confusion.

"Um…" Santana searched for something to say, not all too familiar with the act of small talk. She and Quinn never bothered with it, and her mother had always insisted that children were better off seen than heard in the company of adults, so she was never allowed to participate in small talk when her parents had dinner guests over.

"So, Kurt…why did you come to Hogwarts? Isn't Durmstrang closer?" Santana asked, smiling at her ability to keep her question polite.

"Well—" Kurt giggled at her.

Santana felt her face heat up.

"My father had attended Durmstrang, and did not exactly agree with all of their _principles_; plus, let's be real, I am far too pretty for that place," he gave a broad smile, turning his face towards the sun, and Santana had to agree.

However, she still felt Mercedes and Brittany's eyes on her, so she cleared her throat, "Um…Mercedes…"

"Girl, you are struggling," Mercedes laughed.

Santana's cheeks were now burning, and she was infinitely grateful for the dark tan summer had added to her naturally olive complexion.

"We're waiting to hear about you," she pointed out. "It's your turn to give a little history."

"Oh…" Santana was sure her face would spontaneously combust at any second as Kurt joined Mercedes in laughter. She turned to Brittany who was wearing a smile of understanding—after all, who knew better about misunderstanding conversations than she did—and delight at seeing this new side of the normally confident girl. Santana could feel a smile growing on her own visage, replacing the embarrassment. She couldn't help but feel guilty, as if she had been caught doing something she oughtn't, but somehow okay, if not thrilled, with the fact that it was Brittany who had done the catching.

"Well, I live with my parents in London where my father is both a healer in the magical world and a doctor in the Muggle one where he helps keep an eye on things for the Ministry. And then in the summer, I go visit my father's family in Spain, where he is from," Santana supplied.

"You know, your dads may know each other since they are both doctors in London," Kurt said thoughtfully. "What did you say your dad's name was, Santana?"

Santana bit back her initial urge to point out that her father was a real doctor, not a dentist, under the guise of politeness. The pause gave her a second to think about Kurt's question and realize that it gave her the perfect opportunity to further spread word of her pedigree.

She sat up and straight and cleared her throat, "My father is Andrés Lopez, more properly known as Lord Lopez."

"Lord Lopez…why do I know that name?" Kurt wondered out loud.

"He's not God if that's what you're thinking," Brittany offered.

"Yeah, even if my dad weren't a doctor, I'm sure I still would've heard of Lord Lopez," Mercedes laughed. "She was putting it mildly when she said he helps out in the Ministry. He's probably the most influential person in the medical profession in either the Muggle world or the Magical one."

"Oh my God," Kurt gasped.

"No, I said he's _not _God," Brittany shook her head.

"Lord Lopez…Andrés Lopez is your dad," Kurt stared at Santana wide-eyed. "That would make Lady Lopez your mom."

"That's generally how these things work, Kurt," Mercedes supplied.

"Lady Lopez," Kurt continued, unfazed by the interruptions, "less formally known as Evelyn Lopez."

"Don't let her hear you calling her that," Santana smirked, knowing that Kurt was fixing to do all of her work for her by spilling the beans in front of the biggest gossiper of their year if not of the school.

"Formally known as Evelyn Black," he finished.

"Bloody hell," Mercedes whispered in awe. "Then that would make you…"

"She's not Jesus," Brittany insisted with a frown. "You two really should check your ears because I think you're suffering from some hearing loss."

"Lady Santana Lopez," Mercedes concluded. "How did I not…"

"Oh," Brittany rolled her eyes at the pair of them. "Shouldn't that have been obvious since you two grew up in this feuding system thingy. I mean—"

Santana put a gentle hair on her arm, stilling her.

"_The_ Lady Santana Lopez," Kurt reverenced. "You're _the _Lady Santana Lopez. How did I not recognize you?"

Brittany leaned in towards Santana to whisper, "I think all that hairspray he's using is attracting the sun's rays because he sounds baked. That's what Al Gore says, anyway."

Santana brushed her thumb back and forth across Brittany's arm, quieting her once more.

"You're practically royalty," Kurt exhaled.

"That's generally what the title 'Lady' means," Santana shrugged, her expression the picture of nonchalance.

"I used to worship you when I was younger. Pictures of you as a baby and toddler were all over the papers. You were like the closest thing to a princess the Magical world had. But then, all of a sudden, it stopped."

"I went to boarding school in the Muggle world," Santana supplied.

"Now that is not something I would've expected. I mean, your mom's a Black."

"Hey!" Brittany cut in heatedly. "What does the color of her mom's skin got to do with anything besides the amazing tan she is sporting?"

"No, Britt," Santana quickly explained, the nickname rolling off her tongue as if she had been using it for years. "He was referring to my mother's family, which is the Blacks."

"I just meant that Blacks, that is to say, um, the family with the surname of Black," Kurt tried to amend when a soft growl could be heard coming from Brittany's direction. "They tend to be rather…unsympathetic towards Muggles, so the fact that her mom let her go to a Muggle school is pretty surprising."

"It was the best school money could buy," Santana responded.

"And with the Blacks, money trumps all," Mercedes nodded.

Brittany gasped, "Now, I'd expect that kind of talk from Kurt, with his never-seen-the-light-of-day complexion—"

"Hey!" Kurt fussed, indignantly.

"—but you too, Mercedes?" Brittany asked in disbelief. "You know, maybe you should think about getting some professional help. That amount of self-hate can't be healthy."

"Britt," Santana gave her arm a light squeeze to get the girl to turn and look at her. She held her blue eyes, making sure she had her focus before continuing. "They are not talking about the color of my mother's skin. Before she had married my father, my mother's last name was Black, with a capital 'B'. You may not have heard of them on your side of things, but they are an extremely influential—"

"Read: wealthy," Kurt fake whispered.

"—family over here. So when she married my father who had already made quite the name for himself as Lord Lopez, it was seen as kind of a big deal."

"Kind of a big deal? Kind of? That's like saying Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald the Great was kind of a big deal. The wedding was on the cover of every wizarding magazine there was. I used to spend hours fawning over your mother's dress."

"How? You weren't even alive yet," Mercedes pointed out.

"Princess!" Kurt reminded as he gestured towards Santana exasperatedly. "I remember the first picture I ever saw of her in a magazine. She was photographed out with her driver and nanny, and they were shopping. She had on this little yellow dress that was, of course, custom made, that went perfect with her bronzed, summer complexion and this white hat that was just to die for. I fell in love. I had to know everything about the girl that was always dressed in the most famous designers and came from one of the most talked about families at the time. I made my dad find every article and picture about her and her family. She was all over my walls.

Santana had kept hold of Brittany's gaze through Kurt's spiel on her much publicized childhood. That last time, she hadn't meant to downplay her family in order to make Kurt react. For once, her reputation had been the furthest thing from her mind. The more Kurt went on and on about his childhood obsession with her, the more she realized just exactly why she was leery of letting Brittany in on who she was. It was more than girls following her around solely because of her title. It was the hurt, the confusion, the feeling of being used that came with hearing all of the lies being written about her and her family.

Santana had gone to one of the top Magic day cares in England. She thought she had been making friends there. But then, one day, stories started to appear, stories about her, in the paper, stories that weren't true but were misconstrued by parents of other children at the daycare that only saw her briefly in passing, every now and then. Her parents immediately pulled her out and put her in Nanny's full-time care with private tutors starting her on her lessons early. She was two and a half at the time.

Her mother, though, still insisted she socialize, so she had play dates with children of her parents' friends, play dates where she spent most of the time playing quietly by herself in the corner because the other kids would always make fun of the way she talked because she wasn't quite old enough to be completely aware of the difference between Spanish and English or when she was slipping back and forth between the two. That's when the stories started coming out that Santana was a brat who thought she was too good to be playing with other kids of lesser status.

It was Santana's first time sleeping over at a "friend's" house that sent things over the edge, though. She had just turned four, and her mother insisted she go despite Santana's protests and the fact that she had only spent one afternoon with the other girl, and that was at the Lopez Manor. However, the girl's mother was the head of whichever wives' group Lady Lopez had set her sights on at the time, so Santana had no choice in the matter. At the time, her father had been away for over two weeks at a business conference and was supposed to arrive the day before, but his plane had been delayed due to weather. His limo ended up pulling up just as Brad was putting Santana's overnight bag into the trunk of the town car.

Santana immediately ran to her father, hugging him tightly, laughing as the scruffy beard he always let grow while away tickled her cheek. When Brad came with an apologetic look in his eyes to say the car was ready, Santana latched on tighter to her father's neck, not yet ready to let him go after only just getting him back. Lady Lopez had to be called from where she was inspecting the night's dinner because Lord Lopez, upon seeing his daughter so upset, wanted to know why they couldn't just reschedule the sleepover for another night. Lady Lopez quickly admonished him for indulging her, and took Santana from him. She placed her in the back of the town car where Santana kicked and screamed long after the door was closed.

When they pulled up to the house, Brad retrieved her bag for her and walked her to the front door which was answered by a servant with kind eyes. Santana reluctantly let Brad pass her hand off to the servant who clasped it softly in her warm one. The tantrum she threw in the car had worn the fight out of her. The sound of the door closing behind her, barely even registered in her ears. She looked up at the woman next to her. Her green eyes looked back down at her with sympathy instead of the usual weariness that seemed to be reserved for her by most adults.

"What is your name?" Santana's voice came out hoarse from all of her screaming during the car ride over.

The servant's eyes grew in mild surprise, "Sarah."

Santana nodded, holding on to Sarah's hand tighter as she took in her surroundings. They were standing in a large foyer that led to an even larger mansion, if the glimpse Santana had caught when the car pulled down the long driveway was anything to go by. It wasn't as large as her own home, of course, but she hadn't been living in this house for the past four years, exploring every dark corner during marathon games of hide-and-seek with her nanny, in order to gain comfort in its girth. She took in a shaky breath, feeling as if the large, unfamiliar building was going to swallow her up at any second.

A young brunette girl about a year older than Santana came walking into the entryway. Santana recognized her from their last play date.

"Oh," the girl wrinkled her nose when she caught sight of Santana. "You're here."

"Avery, Lady Santana Lopez is here for your sleepover. How about you show her up to your playroom? I will go bring her things to your room," Sarah replied.

At the realization that Sarah was getting ready to leave, Santana gripped the woman's hand with both of her own.

"Now Santana," Sarah struggled against her surprisingly strong hold, "you need to let go, dear. Santana…"

Santana shook her head and held on with everything she had.

Sarah sighed, "Santana, let go. I have other things I need to be doing."

And there it was: the weariness in her eyes. Santana let go of her hand as if she had been burned. She turned to Avery, swallowing the lump in her throat, feeling even smaller than before now that she was without a warm hand.

"What a baby," Avery rolled her eyes. "Are you even going to speak?"

Santana opened her mouth, but stopped, shutting it tightly, knowing that when she was upset, her words had a tendency to bleed into Spanish.

Avery frowned at her, "Are you stupid or something?"

Santana felt her face heating up.

"Well, come on then, you. My mum said I have to be nice because your parents have a lot of money, so I'll show you my toys like Sarah said. But you have to stay quiet when we walk down the hall because my daddy is working in his study."

It was that, Avery's mention of her father, which had sent Santana tumbling overboard. She crumpled to the floor, hot tears immediately pooling in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.

"What the hell?" Avery questioned. "Hey…you cannot cry. My mum won't get me a new dress tomorrow if I make you cry. Santana?"

But Santana did not respond. She just sat, curled up in a tight ball on the floor and cried.

"I am going to go get Sarah, okay? You wait right here."

Avery hurried to get the servant. But when she returned and whispered kind words, Santana just cried harder, remembering how Sarah had tricked her.

Eventually, Sarah had to go get Lady Nott, but even she couldn't get Santana to move or even stop crying, neither did the promise of food. At one point, she must have fallen asleep, because Santana woke to a set of arms lifting her up from the floor gently. She opened her eyes to find Brad looking down at her worriedly, not an ounce of weariness to be found. She snuggled into his lapel, finding comfort in his arms.

"Let's get you home," he said, carrying her out of the house and into the darkness of the night, towards the car.

"Mum's going to be so mad," Santana clung to him.

"I think she's a bit preoccupied with her anger over her friend's reception of you," Brad noted.

"Is Daddy still awake?" she asked, knowing her father had the tendency to go to bed early on the days he came back from a long trip.

"He's the one that sent for me to come get you when Lady Nott called."

Santana smiled, allowing her eyes to close as exhaustion took over once more.

Two mornings later, a story had run that talked about how spoiled and poorly behaved Santana was and how her parents needed to do a better job at raising her. The story was picked up all over the wizard world and even in some of the Muggle publications, considering the big name of the source and the story's leading characters.

It was then that Santana's father decided to put an end to all of the play dates. And when he mentioned putting Santana in a Muggle primary boarding school, her mother did not protest, saying it was for the best that all of the poor gossip surrounding Santana be stopped and forgotten about before she enter Hogwarts. Talk around the Manor, though, was that she was furious at having been dragged into the gossip herself, and apparently the only thing keeping her from punishing Santana for her behavior was her father's word forbidding it.

Santana drew in a shaky breath, determined to keep hold of Brittany's gaze. She wasn't sure what she was more afraid of: Brittany finding those old stories and believing them the truth and rejecting her friendship because of it, or the fact that Brittany could become like all of those parents, welcoming her and then turning to the papers with lies and gossip as soon as she grew tired of her.

But Brittany continued to stare back, her eyes open and warm. Santana wasn't sure what she had been looking for. Hunger? Greed, maybe? But whatever it was, she did not find it. All she found was the same inviting look of comfort that had been present ever since they first met. If the news of Santana's family had caused Brittany to change the way she viewed her, Santana couldn't see it.

Brittany wriggled her nose playfully, and Santana giggled, her head falling as she finally relaxed. She looked back up at Brittany through dark lashed, and Brittany crossed her eyes, stick her tongue out in mock concentration as Kurt continued to ramble on about his past as a stalker.

Santana brought a hand up to stifle the loud laugh she felt bubbling up. When she looked back, Brittany's eyes held a concern, her eyebrows raised in question. Santana nodded. She was okay.

++gw++

The four of them walked into the Great Hall for supper, finding it nearly full. Mercedes and Kurt turned to the right and Santana to the left. They all paused, momentarily realizing that they were no longer in their own little group, escaped from reality.

"You could, um…" Mercedes started to offer.

Santana scoffed, "Sit with Gryffindor? I wouldn't be caught dead at that table of dweebs."

Mercedes nodded, both of them knowing Santana was not going to return the offer and ask them to join her at the Slytherin table.

"Come on," Kurt tugged on Mercedes' arm. "I have to tell everybody that I just spent the entire afternoon with _the_Lady Santana Lopez. They're going to flip."

"Come on, Brittany," Mercedes waved her over as they started to turn.

Santana wanted to smile. She wanted to be happy that Brittany had actually found friends in her own house…but she couldn't even force up a fake one. Brittany had already said earlier during Potions that she'd be having dinner with her, but that was before she'd had other friends to sit with. Santana's eyes fell when Brittany turned to her.

"Sorry," Brittany apologized, and Santana's shoulders fell as well. "But I already made plans with Santana to eat together. How about tomorrow?"

Mercedes nodded with a smile as Kurt dragged her away.

Brittany nudged Santana, getting her to look back up.

"You didn't have to do that. You could have gone with them. I mean, I would understand, they're in your house and everything."

Brittany just shook her head and took Santana's arm with a giggle. "Come on, silly."

Once they were seated next to each other—initially, Santana had wanted to sit across from each other as she was taught, but Brittany sat next to her, saying it was easier to talk that way, which it was. With Brittany sitting on Santana's right side, the two could sit closer than normal since both ate with their outer hands, making it easier to hear each other over the loud chatter of the full dining hall—and served, the seat on the bench across from them became occupied. Santana looked to find Quinn starting to serve her own plate. She could feel Brittany drawing in a deep breath.

"Quinn, I don't think you should be sitting with us. I—"

"It's okay, Britt," Santana cut in softly as she met Quinn's eye from across the table.

"Are you sure?" Brittany pressed.

"Yeah, she can sit with us," Santana nodded.

Brittany looked at the pair of them curiously before turning back to her plate happily. Whether the happiness was from the food, or the fact they had all made up, Santana did not know.


	7. Year 1 Chapter 7

A/N: So, one of the worst (I say one of because there are many) discrepancies in Glee's history is their lack of follow through with the unholy trinity friendship. It is so complicated and magnificent and I've always loved it. First there's the Brittany and Santana friendship (and relationship, but we're focusing on friendships right now) that we all know is amazing, and it is one of the reasons I am starting this fic in Year 1 and taking my time with it (not all years will take this long, I promise) because their relationship formed from their friendship and that is such a special and also terrifying thing. But then, there's the Santana/Quinn friendship (yes, friendship only, so if some of y'all were looking for more) that is so complicated and confusing and strong because in the beginning, in Santana's eyes, Quinn got everything that Santana wanted without seemingly trying, the only difference between them being their skin color and, as we all came to realize, their sexuality, and then Quinn went crazy, and through all of that, they still remain extremely close friends. And then, there's Brittany/Quinn, which I will get to as well, (once again, friendship only), which is so strange and unique and quite lovely, because though Quinn doesn't follow Brittany's every whim and word as if it were gospel like whipped!tana, she does seem to support Brittany despite what some people see as her craziness, and Brittany has always remained loyal to Quinn despite her craziness as well. It's sweet, and as with the previous two friendships, sadly unrepresented. So, yeah, one of the defining factors of this first Year is going to be the formation and foundation of these friendships.

* * *

><p>+++GW+++<p>

Santana was still walking with her head high and a slight bounce in her step from being the first First Year in Slytherin to be able to correctly perform the wand lighting and wand extinguishing spells that morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts—sure, there were a couple of nerdy Ravenclaws that had manage to perform it first, but she would omit that detail when writing home…as well as the detail of her making a C- in Potions the previous week—after lunch as she made her way to the Transfiguration classroom with Quinn.

"Oh, give it a rest," Quinn instructed.

"Give what a rest?" Santana asked with a smile.

"That," Quinn motioned to her facial expression. "It is creeping me out."

Santana chuckled, giving Quinn a playful nudge, causing her to roll her eyes and barely contain the small smile pulling at the corner of her own lips.

"I would not get too excited if I were you," Quinn noted. "We both know I can bury you in Transfiguration."

"Whatever," Santana replied, even her smirk shining playfully. She knew Quinn had a point though; while she seemed to have been gifted with an aptitude for Potions and DADA, Quinn's talents shone brightest in Transfigurations and Charms. But she wasn't going to let that knock the wind out of her sails just yet, because for the first time in her life, she had just successfully performed a spell on her own, and the feeling of warmth and power and certainty at having done that was not one she was willing to let go of just yet.

They entered the Transfiguration room to find a group of Hufflepuff First Years gathered together in a boisterous group.

"What's their problem now? Did Hudson get his wand stuck up his nose again?" Santana wondered as they took their seats at a table in the middle of the room.

Quinn giggled, the light mood still resting over them.

"Actually—" a sharp voice began to interject from behind them.

Santana groaned loudly as she turned around to face Rachel, "You just don't quit, do you? You are like the Energizer Bunny from my worst nightmares."

"You know, my father is quite the avid rabbit hunter," Quinn added, her tone thoughtful.

Rachel whimpered.

Santana and Quinn exchanged high-fives—discreetly, of course, since it tended to be frowned upon for ladies to give high-fives at all.

"Well, f-fine," Rachel's voice shook nervously. "If you're going to be cruel, I won't tell you what they are so excited about."

"Of course you are going to tell us," Quinn gave an achingly sweet smile. "Because you don't have anybody else to tell, and you are clearly bursting at the seams with gossip."

Santana almost added that Rachel nearly rivaled Mercedes, the Queen of Gossip amongst First Years, in that aspect, but to do so would be to admit her familiarity with a member of Gryffindor…besides Brittany, that is; she always forgot Brittany was in Gryffindor.

Rachel appeared hurt at the insinuation that she did not have any friends to talk to, but that didn't stop her from spreading the news, "Finn and Noah made their house Quidditch teams. It is rather exciting, really. They are the first First Years allowed on the team in over a century—I looked it up. But, I mean, I had no doubt that they would; Finn is obviously very athletic."

"Wait, what?" Quinn laughed loudly. "You have got to be kidding me. Finn 'can't-tell-the-back-of-his-broom-from-the-front' Hudson and Noah 'twig-arms' Puckerman made their house team? Is Hufflepuff intentionally trying to come in last in the Cup race?"

She turned to Santana for a back up retort, but Santana was eying the two boys in question.

"Finn as keeper and Noah as seeker?" Santana requested of Rachel who nodded quickly.

Quinn gave her a pointed look.

Santana shrugged, "I can't say I am all that surprised. Hufflepuff has gone 0-3 for the past eight years, so they are no doubt going to be trying something different this time around."

"By putting twiddle-dumb and twiddle-dee on their team?" Quinn's eyebrows rose.

"With Finn's unnaturally long limbs, he would seem like a good choice for keeper. Same for Noah's small stature and the seeker position. Hufflepuff is probably willing to take a hit the next couple years as they rebuild their team, starting them young in the hopes of training them up."

Rachel nodded as if this had been obvious to her all along.

"It would be a brilliant plan if it did not rely on the miniscule talents and flying skills of those two brainless dorks," Santana concluded.

Quinn smiled in satisfaction.

"I do not know where you are getting your assessment from, Santana, but—" Rachel began to argue.

Santana quickly cut her off, "I get my assessment from having been an avid Quidditch follower since I was born. I went to my first match when I was two months old. I would annually attend the training camp of the Falmouth Falcons with my father who is oft regarded as their assistant coach. And also, I get my assessment from my two eyes that make it clear that Hudson and his little tagalong don't stand a chance against true Quidditch players. Now perhaps it is you who should do a little reassessing. A member of Slytherin pining after a member of Hufflepuff?" Santana raised an eyebrow. "That would not be very smart. What would the other members of the house think?"

Quinn crossed her arms over her chest, "I do not think they would take very kindly to it. And everyone knows the rash way members of Slytherin behave when they are angry."  
>Santana nodded in agreement.<p>

"I-I don't know what you are talking about. I-I would never…" Rachel gulped before scurrying off to her seat at the front of the class.

"She makes it too easy sometimes," Quinn shook her head.

Santana nodded again.

"So is that what you really think of them making the team?" Quinn asked curiously.

Santana nodded, eying the boys once more before sighing and turning back to the table before her. "Yeah, Hufflepuff is definitely willing to take a couple years off if it means getting to build a team from the ground up and make a true run for the Cup for the first time in forever. Building the team around Finn and Noah is where they are messing up, though, and big time. Yeah, Finn is lanky, but that kid in the wheelchair has more control over his body than Finn does. Will he make a few saves? Physics says yes since he's so bloody tall and takes up so much space, but it'll be nothing more than luck."

"And Noah?" Quinn pressed.

"Noah may be small now, but he won't be that way for long. There is a Mr. Puckerman that used to play for the Falcon's and who now owns a pub that my father helped open not far from his London office. I would bet anything that that is Noah's father. He was a notorious ladies' man back when he was on the team. Plus, Puckerman's not a very popular name, is it? And they look eerily alike, as well, except for the fact that Mr. Puckerman is a rather large, well-built man. Noah has a lot of growing to do, and once he starts, Hufflepuff will have spent all that time training him as a seeker for naught."

"And you?" Quinn's voice was careful.

Santana frowned, "What about me?"

"Oh, come on," Quinn lowered her voice, "you forget that I am the one that came up with the idea of ordering your subscription to Quidditch Weekly under your driver's name to keep your mum from finding out about it. You cannot tell me you are not the slightest bit jealous at the thought of Finn and Noah making their team when you are forbidden from even trying out for yours."

Santana lowered her hands beneath the table as they tightened into fists. "I am a lady, and ladies do not participate in such barbaric activities as Quidditch," she recited.

"I am pretty sure ladies are not supposed to be smart asses, either, but yet you continue to insist on being one," Quinn countered, trying to return to the playfulness from earlier. It was rare that the pair of them were able to indulge in such moments together.

"I learned from the best," Santana gave her a pointed look, the beginnings of a smile on her lips.

"No, you are the smart ass. I believe the term most people refer to me by is 'bitch', or how do you say it? _Puta_?"

Santana laughed loudly, unsure which was better: Quinn's sad attempt at Spanish or her cursing in general because it was extremely rare that she used such brash language. Several heads turned at the outburst, but she didn't care.

_Let them look_, she found herself thinking. _Let them see how much fun we are having and realize that they aren't a part of it_.

But mostly, she was thinking about how grateful she was to have someone like Quinn beside her, someone who knew what her life was truly like and who knew just when she needed to forget about that life, and was willing to drop a value or two of her own in order to give her that moment.

"Alright class," Professor Holliday greeted as she walked in, waving her hand absentmindedly to make the door shut behind her. "After our last few classes ended in some sort of a fire which I will not blame on anyone in particular," her eyes fell on Finn who's already ruddy cheeks turned bright red, and the room erupted into a set of giggles. "I have decided that we need to take a step back and first learn a little theory."

The classgroaned.

"I know, I know," Professor Holiday raised her hands to settle them down. "I, myself, am more of a hands-on type teacher and prefer action to words, but apparently, this is something you guys need to learn in order to become successful at Transfiguration. So, if you would all take out your compositions and start taking notes, we may have time at the end of the class to retry the matchstick into a needle spell one more time."

There was a scurrying around the class as the students scrambled to get out paper and a quill.

"Now, there are five very important things that directly influence any transfiguration spell, and those things are: body weight which we will substitute as 'a'," she explained as she wrote the letter on the board. "Then viciousness, which we will substitute as 'v', wand power which we will substitute as 'w', concentration which we will substitute as 'c', and a fifth unknown variable which we will substitute with a 'Z'."

Santana glanced at Quinn as the other girl wrote down Professor Holiday's words quickly yet neatly, and thought back to how she had always referred to Quinn as the closest thing to a friend she had. But with Brittany's assessment of friendship the other night still on her mind, Santana realized that she had been wrong all along. Quinn wasn't the closest thing she'd had to a friend, Quinn was her friend, and had been all this time.

Santana started to smile as she realized that it was not even a month ago she had arrived at Hogwarts, thinking she was friendless, and now, here she was, with not only one, but two friends she wouldn't trade for anything.

"You are creeping me out again," Quinn informed under her breath.

Santana chuckled and turned to her own notebook as she began to copy the formula off the board.

At the end of class, Quinn was proven correct when she became the first First Year to turn her matchstick into a proper needle. Santana grumbled as Quinn bragged about it the rest of the afternoon as she silently acknowledged to herself that she wouldn't have their friendship any other way.

* * *

><p>Santana laughed to herself at the whooping and hollering that was going on not far from where she lay in the grass next to her broomstick of choice. She had learned a nifty little spell to combat grass stains the other day in Charms class—Professor Pillsbury seemed particularly knowledgeable in spells of cleanliness—so she was now free to lounge about the grounds as she pleased.<p>

"Could you be any more vulgar?" Quinn wondered from where she paced along the grass beside her.

"Unclench, Q," Santana teased.

"I am surprised you are so relaxed to be honest. Shouldn't you be grumbling up a storm about Hufflepuff's excitement over their match tomorrow?"

"Why? It has been three weeks since Finn and Noah made their house team, and their flying has yet to improve. They are going to get creamed, and by Ravenclaw of all teams. I find their excitement hilarious in light of that, and I cannot wait to bask in their tears of defeat. Now, I think the more important question is, what has gotten your knickers all in a twist? I mean, even more so than usual, that is. Not still sulking over the A- you got on your Transfiguration homework this morning, are you?"

"Professor Holiday has a personal vendetta against me," Quinn insisted.

"No, she does not. Professor Holiday thinks the sun shines out of your ass just like every other adult you have ever encountered."

"Are you sure?" her forehead wrinkled in worry. "I really thought that essay was A+ material."

"Positive. She probably just didn't have enough sugar in her oatmeal this morning or something."

"Yes…yes, you are probably right," she sighed in relief.

"Of course I'm right, I am always right. Don't you worry your pretty little head, Quinny, your reputation as the golden child is safe."

Quinn dug her shoe gently into Santana's side, "What did I tell you about calling me that?"

Santana laughed, squirming away out of her reach. "Careful, you wouldn't want your cutesy nickname to spread amongst all of our peers, now would you?"

"It does, and I will tell everyone how your own grandma used to call you Garbage Face when you were younger," she threatened.

"Hey, leave _mi abuela_ out of this. She was just starting to learn English, and I don't have any _primas_, just _primos_, so we were always playing outside, and I was always filthy. She meant it as a term of endearment."

"Not my problem," Quinn shrugged.

"Fine," Santana waved her off. "Whatever, your secret is safe with me, Quinny."

"As is yours, Garbage Face."

A shrill whistle rang out, and the girls got into place beside their brooms. Coach Tenaka decided to do something different for that class in light of the upcoming Quidditch opener and have a race. First student to complete twenty laps around the pitch would earn twenty points for their house. Slytherin was still celebrating Santana's narrow defeat of Noah and clear victory over the other flyers as they made their way into the Great Hall for dinner. Quinn had even managed to come in third, a lap and a half behind the leaders, which earned her a few congratulatory claps on the back as well, causing her to smile broadly.

As they entered the large dining room, Santana's eyes immediately landed on Brittany who was already waiting for them at the Slytherin table, red and gold tie shining in defiance amongst the sea of silver and green. The space all around her was empty, but no member of Slytherin stood up to challenge her attendance at their table. That seemed to be how the situation of the Gryffindor's regular appearance at Slytherin hangouts had been decided on being handled: the Slytherins would ignore Brittany's presence in lieu of starting a fight over it with Santana whose reputation and family history had spread rapidly throughout the school—thanks, in large part, to Kurt and Mercedes' big mouths. Some Slytherins had even begun to come to terms with the fact that Brittany would be a regular presence amongst them during their downtime and would engage her in conversation, but only if Santana was there as well.

"What's all the commotion about?" Brittany asked as she began to add food to her plate as Santana and Quinn took their normal spots at the table on her left and across from her with the other Slytherin First Years filling in the space around them.

"I won a few house points," Santana shrugged as she filled her own plate.

"A few?" Lauren Zises nearly choked on the food she was already shoveling down her throat. "Lopez here just won us twenty points and wiped the floor with Hufflepuff's golden boys in the process."

Brittany raised a curious eyebrow at Santana.

"We had a race today in our flying lesson. I won, which meant I also beat Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman, both of whom are on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team," she explained.

"It was brilliant," Rachel added.

Santana mimed stabbing herself in the eye with her fork, making Brittany giggle and Quinn snort into the goblet of cider she was drinking.

"I mean, if a First Year who did not even try out for our house team could out fly two of Hufflepuff's players, just think of what our actual team is going to do with them."

There was a hearty "Here, here!" all along the table as people clinked their goblets together in toast.

Santana, though, just glanced between Brittany and Quinn and joined in their laughter. It was actually Brittany that had been the first to notice Rachel's obsession with the overgrown Hufflepuff First Year, having seen her intentionally bump into Finn in the hall and drop her books so that he would help her pick them up, an occurrence which she shared one day as Quinn sat reading and Santana lie avoiding homework under what was becoming their favorite tree on campus. However, ever since Santana had called her out on it back during that Transfiguration lesson, Rachel had been using every opportunity that presented itself to prove that her true loyalty lay with Slytherin.

"Speaking of Quidditch," Santana segued when their laughter had died down. "Are you going to sit with us for the match tomorrow, Britt?"

"Actually, I wasn't even planning on going," Brittany replied as she pushed her food around her plate.

"Not planning on going?" Santana questioned in confusion. "What do you mean? It is going to be amazing seeing Finn snapped like a twig by the Ravenclaw beaters."

Rachel squeaked.

Okay, maybe Santana had done that on purpose.

"I'm just getting tired of hearing about Quidditch lately. I don't really get the hype."

Santana blanched, "Don't get the hype? But it's Quidditch which is only the greatest game ever…wait…Britt? Have you ever seen a Quidditch match?"

"Arizona is more of a football state. Go Cards!" Brittany raised her hand, lining up her four fingers and stretching out her thumb beneath them in a crude sort of beak. "That's my hand signal for them. It hasn't caught on yet, but give it some time."

"Britt, no, you don't understand, Quidditch is the game of the gods. You will love it."

"Even if I do go, it's not like I would be able to understand anything that was going on. It took me years to learn the rules of football, and I still don't get why touchdowns are worth more points than field goals when they have an entire zone to make a touchdown in, but only ten feet or so for a field goal."

"Well, you are in luck," Quinn replied, jutting her thumb towards Santana. "You would be hard pressed to find someone who knows more about the sport than that one there."

"You'll help me?" Brittany looked at Santana hopefully.

"Of course," she nodded. "So, you'll sit with us?"

"Of course," Brittany smiled. "You'd better be right about this, Lopez."

"I am always right, Pierce," Santana smiled back

+++gw+++

Brittany sat next to Santana, bright blue eyes as wide as the sky as Ravenclaw scored another easy goal. The minute the whistle blew and the Quaffle thrown at the beginning of the match, she had been transfixed, eyes never leaving the pitch even for a second. At first, Santana had explained the basics, and then, Brittany had begun to spout of questions at such a rapid-fire pace that Santana had had to struggle to keep up with. Now, though, will all of her questions answered, she just sat, completely immobile. In the short time she had known her, Santana had never seen Brittany so focused, so enraptured, definitely not for such a long time as this.

Santana leaned towards her, "It's okay to cheer, you know."

As if those were the very words she had been waiting for, Brittany was on her feet in an instant, screaming at the top of her lungs with the rest of the crowd that was more excited about it being the first match of the year than for the actual pairing of the match. She stayed like that for the rest of the game, cheering when Ravenclaw scored, booing when Hufflepuff made a good play, and cursing in a way that made not only Quinn, but Santana blush as well, when Coach Tenaka made a bad call from his position as referee. She was so into the match, that when the snitch was caught and the final whistle blew, she started in on a tirade that even the toughest sailor would've been proud of, thinking that Tenaka had made another poor call.

"You worthless piece of shit! Why don't you go fu—"

Santana cut her off with a hand over her mouth, laughing "The match is over, Britt. Ravenclaw won. And better yet, Finn did not save a single goal, and Noah fell off of his broom, twice."

"What? They caught the switch? When? I didn't see," she pouted in disappointment, her voice hoarse from yelling.

"It's a s_n_itch, and it's really small and really fast, so it can be hard to see. We should get you some binoculars for next time."

Brittany nodded in agreement.

Santana turned to make sure Quinn was coming. The tawny haired girl was still sitting in her seat, shaking her head.

"I think some of your cursing may have permanently scarred her," Santana whispered to Brittany.

"She would never survive a football game," Brittany replied.

"Are you okay, Q?" Santana asked, poking her on the shoulder carefully, so as not to startle her.

"I don't think some of that is even possible physically," Quinn shook her head. "I mean, that thing you said about the squirrel…"

"The secret to cursing is to not dwell on the meaning too much," Brittany replied as she and Santana guided her into a standing position.

"How about we get you inside and get you some warm cider in the Great Hall," Santana coaxed gently.

"That sounds good," Quinn nodded in agreement.

Santana met Brittany's eyes across from her, and she had to look away to keep from chortling loudly in laughter.

* * *

><p>Santana's smirk couldn't get any wider as she watched the Hufflepuff first years shuffle into their chairs in Transfiguration the following week, their heads hanging.<p>

"What's wrong, guys?" she asked. "Raven got your snitch?"

The Slytherin First Years burst into a round of loud laughter at the Hufflepuffs' expense.

"It was only their first match," Quinn pointed out to her.

"So?"

"So, they could still improve in the years to come. Isn't that what you said Hufflepuff is betting on? I wouldn't go counting my chickens before they hatch, if I were you."

"Oh, I have no doubt they will improve, but there is only so much improving worms like that can do. What I am starting to wonder, is if the captain of the Hufflepuff team thought to inform Finn and Noah of their plan; because the way they were acting last week, those morons seemed to think they genuinely stood a chance of winning."

"That would be a bit cruel, would it not?" Quinn questioned, seeming to like the idea. "To not tell them that they knew going into it that they would lose?"

"Definitely, but at the same time really smart. If they would have told them, do you think Finn and Noah would have tried their hardest to win? And if they are not trying their hardest, then how are they going to improve? And their improving is what Hufflepuff is gambling on."

"Do you think they don't plan on ever telling them?" a calculating smile was forming on her face.

"Probably not," Santana was sporting a grin to match.

"That could come in handy one day."

"You know what, Q? I think you may be right."

"I am always right."

"Not with Quidditch. Quidditch is mine," Santana reminded.

"Look around," Quinn motioned. "We are in my comfort zone right now."

Santana rolled her eyes.

The door to the Transfiguration classroom opened, and Professor Holiday glided in.

"Good afternoon, class. Wands out, please, we have a lot to do today, and very little time," Professor Holiday informed, offering a smile as the students pulled out their wands from their various hiding spots. Santana's was inside the knee high socks she wore, not very original, but it seemed to be the safest place as she had born witness to a handful of students being lit on fire or thrown backwards by malfunctioning wands they had been keeping in pants pockets. One Ravenclaw First Year still couldn't sit down, and it had been over four weeks since his wand had exploded in his back pocket. Santana was particularly sad she had missed that event.

"So, this week we are going to start to learn the switching spell as well as the untransfiguration spell. Now, I know what you are thinking: it has taken this long for us to master even the simplest of transfiguration spells, why would we want to undo all that work?" Professor Holiday raised her eyebrows.

Santana nodded in reply. Extra work was not her forte.

"But, let's say, you were trying to perform a…oh, let's going with switching spell since that is our other lesson this week. Let's say, I was trying to switch this here bunch of bananas," she pointed to the fruit on her desk, "with the apples that Nancy keeps on her desk in the History of Magic classroom because it is high in fiber and old people need fiber to keep them regular. I just think apples taste better," she winked as the class laughed. "But when I perform the spell, I end up messing up the wand movement, as most of you no doubted will a lot over the next few years. So, instead of a lovely apple to replace my banana, I am left with…" Professor Holiday flourished her wand about and a loud pop resounded throughout the room and then a shriek could be heard from the front row. Santana stood up out of her chair to be able to see better, and she immediately saw what had caused the shriek: where Professor Holiday's nose once rested, now lay a large, red apple. The initial shock wore off and the class erupted into even louder laughter than before.

"Now, while this may seem like a good thing at first, given the fact that I will now forever be surrounded with the smell of apples, you can see where the problem may lie," Professor Holiday said, her voice coming out stuffy.

Another shriek could be heard, this one coming form down the hall.

"Ah, Nancy has found my nose!" Professor Holiday giggled.

"She is going to give the old bat a heart attack," Quinn whispered to Santana.

"So, unless you know the exact incantation needed to switch an apple back with not just a nose, but _your_ nose, then you would be in a mighty jam, right? Wrong, because I am going to teach you the untransfiguration spell which will undo whatever transfiguration mishap you may have made. And as this class goes on, I strongly advise you to use this spell for any and every mishap because you never know what lasting effect a transfiguration gone wrong may have. So, as for the incantation: _Reparifarge_!" Professor Holiday recited, and with a wave of her wand, the apple was gone and her nose was back in its rightful place. "So, first switching spells, and then repairing your damage with the untransfiguration spells. You each have two objects on your table to switch. Begin."

Santana and Quinn turned to the single apple and banana on their table and set to work practicing switching the two. Santana had managed to turn the banana a deep red and the apple a bright yellow when a knock on the door caused Professor Holiday to pause where she had been walking between the rows of students

"Come in," she instructed.

The wooden door was pushed open, and in walked a small girl with a hesitance in her steps.

Santana nudged Quinn with her elbow to get her to look up from her textbook and watch as Brittany approached Professor Holiday where she now stood at the front of the class.

"What is she doing here?" Quinn wondered.

"Shouldn't you be in class, Miss Pierce?" Professor Holiday asked, apparently wondering the same thing.

Brittany nodded, still approaching her slowly, "I needed to talk to you."

Santana managed to catch Brittany's gaze as blue eyes darted around the room nervously. She offered a smile, and Brittany seemed to relax a little.

"About what?"

Brittany whispered something as she finally came to a stop in front of the professor.

Professor Holiday's eyes widened in what appeared to be a mixture of surprise and excitement before the teacher ushered Brittany out of the room to finish their conversation in private. "Continue working on your spells!" was the only instruction she gave her students before leaving them by themselves.

"Well that made total and absolute sense," Quinn noted sarcastically before turning back to the text book.

Santana nodded in agreement. She turned back to the fruit and performed the untransfiguration spell, returning the fruit to their original colors before looking back at the door through which the professor and student had exited.

"Do not waste time trying to understand it," Quinn instructed. "You would be hard pressed to find two people that made any less sense than those two. I can see why the sorting hat put Brittany into Professor Holiday's house."

Santana just nodded again, not bothering to point out that the sorting hat did not place people according to whomever was head of the house at the time because that could change in an instant, but according to the traits that the founder of each house prized most in his or her students because those would never change.

Quinn waved her wand and the apple and the banana switched places on the table. She smiled in satisfaction.

"Suck it, Fabray," Santana grumbled.

The door to the room opened, and Professor Holiday walked back in, alone, and took her place amongst the students as if the interruption had never even happened.


	8. Year 1 Chapter 8

**A/N:**So, there is, in fact, an HP character cameo in this chapter. Funnily enough, it is not the one I mentioned in the summary, bc I totally forgot about him when writing the summary, so that will make it two HP character cameos. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy!

* * *

><p>1.8<p>

+++GW+++

"_On my own, pretending he's beside me…_"

Santana's ears perked up at the sound of a polished voice singing as the Slytherin First Years set up their telescopes in preparation for the evening's astronomy lesson. It was clean, a bit too clean for Santana's taste—she always preferred her music to have a little something behind it—but good nonetheless.

_Really good_, she noted to herself as the song picked up. None of the Slytherins bothered to say anything about the vocal intrusion since the owner of the voice had talent and the song was rather soothing as it floated through the dark night. Santana, herself, was content to let the song finish without interruption until,

"_I love him, and everyday I'm pretending_…no, that's not right," a grating voice corrected herself.

Santana winced, and Quinn stiffened as they realized the same thing at the same time: the talented, carefully trained voiced belonged to Rachel.

"How?" Santana questioned as Rachel picked up the song again, this time with the correct lyric.

"_I love him, but every day I am learning, all my life, I've only been pretending_…"

"It is not possible for that voice to be coming out of _her_," Quinn shook her head in disbelief.

"_A world that's full of happiness that I have never known_!" Rachel's voice reached the peak of its crescendo.

"Would you shut up?" Santana snapped as she turned around to face Rachel who was on the opposite side of the flat tower top. "This isn't one of those stupid Muggle Idol shows. People are trying to concentrate."

"S-Sorry," she stuttered in reply. "I was only practicing. You see, glee club auditions are coming up next week, and the acoustics up here are unparalleled. I was just—"

"No one cares about your stupid glee club auditions," Quinn cut her off. "Glee club is and always will be a place for losers like you to find safety in numbers. That's it."

The class of Slytherins laughed.

"Now, if you would kindly shut up like Santana told you to so the rest of us can get back to concentrating on getting ready for class—class, you know, a place where we learn something useful in order to ensure that we become a contributing part of society and not some hobo sitting on the corner, singing for her supper—then your face will forever be grateful."

"My f-face?"

"Yes, your face. Santana, here, does not like repeating herself, especially to commoners like you who should be respecting our titles. So, if you do not want your nose to be five times too large for your face instead of its normal three, I suggest you heed her warning and shut up."

Santana flexed her grip on her wand, and Rachel's face paled.

"Okay, sorry, I'll shut up like you asked. Sorry, Santana," she apologized.

Quinn cleared her throat.

"I mean, Lady Santana Lopez," she quickly amended.

Santana waved her off with a sigh, as if she couldn't even be bothered with her apologies and turned back to her telescope, the class's snickering behind her.

"Nicely played," Quinn noted in a hushed voice.

"Well, you threw me under the bus a bit, so I worked with what I had on short notice," Santana replied, her voice equally quiet.

"Oh come on, out of the two of us, which do you think people are more likely to believe will fly off the handle and become violent?"

"Me," Santana admitted. "But that's only because—"

"Because that's the picture you have painted for them. I am the bark, you are the bite. That's what they see, that's what we will give them."

"It's not the truth," Santana argued. "In fact, it is damn near the opposite of it."

Sure, she was known to have a short temper and a pretty nasty left hook for someone her size at her old school, but it was extremely rare for her to actually use it. Normally, her words alone were enough to strike fear and, eventually, compliance into her enemies. It was Quinn, though, with her soft voice and cold eyes, that was known for breaking a girl's jaw just because she had refused to address her by her proper title.

"So?" Quinn cocked an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about the truth? Especially when it gets in the way of our running this place?"

"And what about when some Muggle-born bumps into you in the hall, and you get the itch to reply with a black eye?"

"Please, if there is one thing I know about, it is control."

"Yeah, when it comes to other people, but when it comes to yourself? Not so much."

Quinn opened her mouth to retort, but the door swung widely beside them as the First Year Gryffindors walked out into the open air, and the conversation was dropped.

Santana froze momentarily when she saw Brittany walking towards her with Mercedes right behind her, being reminded how, besides her strange intrusion on their Transfiguration class the day before and their shared Potions class—which she didn't count since the other girl had barely spoken three words during both classes, her mind clearly miles away—she had not seen the girl since their meal together after watching the Quidditch match the previous week. Brittany smiled at her brightly, clearly unaware of the near two mile trek around the Great Lake or the walk dangerously close to the edges of the Forbidden Forest she had made the evening before in search for her to no avail.

"Hey guys," she spoke, Mercedes smiling along with her in greeting.

"Hey," Quinn replied shortly, still unable to look at either of them without her eyes falling to their ties longingly.

"Hey Brit…" Santana began as they started to set up their telescopes as well. "Where have you been? I feel like you fell off the grid the past few days."

"I haven't fallen," Brittany shook her head, pulling back her robes to reveal her knees. "See? Not a single scrape. I don't know why everybody's making such a big deal out of it, though."

Santana's eyebrows knitted in confusion, but she shook it off, realizing that she was becoming side-tracked, which she was finding was more often the case than not when talking with Brittany.

"Where have you been, though?"

"At Hogwarts," she replied, nose scrunching. "Where have you been?"

Santana started to reply that she had been looking for her, but she noticed Mercedes watching the pair of them, listening closely, as if waiting to jump into the conversation at any moment if so warranted.

"I just…you haven't even eaten with us since last week," Santana caught her bottom lip between her teeth before it fell into a pout.

"I know, but they've been asking me to eat at the Gryffindor table."

"Now I need to make reservations to eat with you or something?" she frowned.

Mercedes stepped closer as Brittany's mouth fell into a pout of its own.

"You know I like eating with you, but they've been asking, and I didn't want to be rude. I mean, they're…"

"Your House," Santana nodded. "I get it."

Brittany's eyes fell as she kicked the ground, "I miss hanging out with you, if that counts for anything."

It did. It counted for a lot, but Santana was not about to admit that with Quinn standing right beside her and a dozen or so other members of Slytherin and Gryffindor around them. "Come eat with us for lunch tomorrow, then."

"I can't," Brittany admitted regretfully.

"Dinner?"

Brittany shook her head.

"Whatever, Brittany. Come find us whenever you can fit us into your buzzing social schedule again."

"No, Santana, it's not that—" Brittany reached out for her as she turned back to her telescope.

Santana rounded on her, her lingering agitation with Rachel and Quinn spilling over, "You know, I think it's great that you have all these friends now, I do. I just didn't think you would forget about all the crap they did to you at the start of the term, or about the fact that we were the ones that helped you out. I stuck my neck out for you," Santana's voice lowered as it came out through clenched teeth. "If you only knew…if you knew how much trouble I could get into, not just with my House, but with my family—"

Quinn placed a heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her from going any further.

Santana sighed, shaking her head, "You would not be so eager to forget."

"Santana I haven't forgotten," Brittany insisted, tears swimming across her eyes as she shrugged off Mercedes' grip on her own arm. "I just—"

"I think you need to back off, Santana," Mercedes cut her off.

"How about you stay out of it, and let the two of them work it out for themselves?" Quinn countered.

"How about you listen to your own advice?" Mercedes gave a pointed look to her hand on Santana's shoulder.

"Some things are bigger than this," Quinn replied, her normally gentle voice gravelly with a warning, not just for Mercedes but Santana as well. "I was just reminding Santana of that."

"And I was just reminding Santana that not everyone is sacred of her and willing to take her shit."

"Enough!" Brittany's voice rose over the arguing, causing several nearby heads to turn their way. "Enough," she repeated, quieter this time, tears leaving visible trails down her cheeks.

Santana clenched her hands into fists in order to prevent herself from reaching out and brushing her tears away as she found herself driven to do.

"This has nothing to do with either of you," Brittany informed, her voice shaky, but her tone form. "So, if you will excuse us…"

Santana allowed Brittany to take her hand and pull her away until they were granted as much privacy as they could be allotted while surrounded by their classmates.

"Santana, I'm sorry. I really am. I tried finding you so we could hang out, but I couldn't, and I've just been so busy. And no, before you start on your craziness, I have not forgotten you. How could I? You saved my life."

"That's true," Santana allowed with a small nod.

"And you're right. You were there for me when nobody else was, and that is something I will never forget nor will I ever want to. I feel like…" she sighed, struggling with the words.

"Like what, Britt?" Santana coaxed, her voice much gentler now as she watched Brittany trying her best to express herself.

"Like I failed you," she sniffed back more tears. "But Santana, you have to know that, yeah, I've been eating with the Gryffindors, and yeah, I'm having fun with them, but the whole time I'm thinking of how much more fun I would be having if I were eating with you."

"You haven't failed me, Britt," Santana shook her head.

"But I have," she insisted. "I told you that I was going to teach you how to be a friend, and I have been doing a crappy job of that the past few days. But I promise, I'm going to do better."

"You haven't failed me, Britt," Santana repeated, this time in realization

"Yes, I did, but look, Saturday I am all yours. It's gonna be a Brittany and Santana day."

"No, Britt, you haven't. Listen to me. You are showing me this very second how to be a friend," Santana said. "You think Quinn and I ever take the time like this to talk about our problems? We just ignore each other until the anger subsides enough to be in the same room together again."

"But that's what y'all have to do."

Santana's eyes turned curious, "Why do you say that?"

"Because if you didn't, then y'all wouldn't have anyone to sit with or hangout with. The tough, popular girl image doesn't work too well when you are all by yourself."

"How is it that you understand me better than I do sometimes?"

"Because I pay attention," she shrugged, a gentle smile on her face as they walked back to their stations.

"One more lesson that you're teaching me in friendship," Santana nodded, making her smile grow. "And Saturday sounds good, by the way."

"Awesome," Brittany grinned.

+++gw+++

Brittany ended up staying true to her word and spent all day Saturday with Santana, goofing off and even working on some homework. Santana came up with the plan of Brittany eating with the Gryffindors for lunch and with the Slytherins for dinner. Breakfast was left to the blonde since she was normally so hungry in the mornings that she just sat at whichever table she got to first, even if it were Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.

And after that weekend, Santana started paying better attention to Brittany. She noticed how Brittany was now making a concerted effort to go out of her way and make sure that they spent time together, no matter how many times she fell asleep in the middle of a conversation—Brittany would always fuss at Santana afterwards for allowing her to doze off, but Santana would just shrug it off, all too conscious of the dark circles under the smaller girl's drooping eye lids. She also took in the way Brittany's nose collected more and more freckles the more afternoons they spent outside under the sun. She became well aware of the sadness in her eyes every time she answered a question in Astronomy and the class laughed at her and Professor Castle scolded her—for her part, Professor Sylvester seemed unusually patient when it came to Brittany's answers and questions, giving sarcastic replies at times, sure, but never degrading her for speaking her mind like the other professors had begun doing. She even noticed the spark of excitement in Brittany's eyes outside the classroom that had been present ever since their first encounter remained, though it seemed to start to dim ever so slightly.

It was that dimness that found them in the Owlery one afternoon, Santana bringing treats to Blaine and Brittany walking beneath the rows of owls, making sure to pet each and every one that was within reach. Santana had a theory about the hint of darkness that plagues Brittany's excitement—as for what was causing the excitement itself, she had no clue—and figured that bringing Brittany here, to the Owlery, was a good way to broach the topic.

"This is the one I use when writing to my parents," Brittany noted.

Santana turned to find Brittany standing before a Common Barn Owl that resembled dozens of others surrounding them. Santana didn't bother asking how she could tell him apart, instead smiling at the window that had just been opened.

"So, have you heard back from them yet?" Santana asked, trying to keep her voice light and curious. "Your parents, I mean."

"Yep," Brittany's entire face lit up as she dug through her robes to produce a folded piece of paper.

Santana took it from her extended hand with a raised eyebrow.

"You can read it," Brittany assured before turning to coo at a tiny Scops Owl.

Santana carefully opened the letter, her eyebrows knitting together at the sparse few lines of writing decorating the paper.

_**Brittany,**_

_**We are happy to hear you arrived safely and are enjoying your time at your new "school". Things are going great over here. In accordance to your questions, your father says to tell you that the shop is doing well and is very busy.**_

_**Love,**_  
><em><strong>Mom and Dad<strong>_

_**P.S. We are happy to have received all of your letters, but we wonder if there is any way you can send them through some other method? Owls are not particularly common in our neighborhood.**_

Santana looked up from the letter with a frown, "Britt? How many letters have you written them?"

"Once a week," Brittany replied from where she had managed to hoist herself up onto one of the long shelves circling the large room and sat amongst the owls and their nests.

Santana would have smiled at her new position if not for her upcoming question, "And this is the only letter they have written you back?"

"Things are busy," Brittany shrugged, smiling as the owl whose feathers she was scratching practically purred beneath her touch. "Running your own shop is very time consummating."

"And your mom teaches?"

"At the university," Brittany nodded, a look of pride on her face.

"And they've only written you once?" Santana struggled to keep the anger out of her voice.

"My family's not like yours, Santana," Brittany replied calmly. "There isn't a whole lot of money to be made in a repair shop or in teaching. They have to work long hours just to make ends meet."

"And my father doesn't work long hours?"

"Of course he does. From what I hear, your father is an extremely hard working man."

Santana nodded at the insinuation, "My mother."

"Not every family is lucky enough to have a stay at home parent to be there for them at a moment's notice," Brittany shrugged.

Santana's chest tightened painfully. "My mother may not work, but she is anything but a stay at home parent," her voice came out strained, causing Brittany to jump down from her perch.

She landed nimbly on her feet and approached her cautiously, "Santana, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it as a bad thing. I just meant that your mother has more time to write than mine."

Santana nodded. Brittany was right, her mother _did _have a lot of time to write; she often received biweekly letters from her. But the insinuation that just because she had the time, meant that she should be some sort of supportive parent that was always there for her, caused her stomach to turn sickeningly at the realization that it was an assumption based on a logical truth. She was an only child, and her mother did not work, so she should have been there for her.

But no, instead, she dumped Santana off on a nanny and eventually a boarding school. It had gotten to the point where she didn't even look for her mother's face at her vocal recitals or her primary school graduation because in their lives, it wouldn't have made sense. Nanny and Brad had made it to every recital, always waiting with flowers from her father who was away at work. When she would get home, her mother would instruct the cooks to prepare Santana's favorite meal and tell Brad and Nanny to take Santana out the following day to buy a new dress to celebrate her performance. For her primary school graduation, it was only Brad waiting for her in the audience with a bouquet of roses and a small black box. The box contained a white gold necklace whose two sides were connected to a simple word written in white gold script: _believe_. The 'b' was covered in tiny diamonds, making it sparkle magnificently

Brad explained that he and Nanny had been saving up for it for nearly two years. Santana had instantly crumpled against his lapel in tears. It had been six months since her nanny's death, and the wound was still raw. The large diamond earrings her mother had given her that evening at dinner she wore only once, but that necklace had yet to be removed after Brad placed it on her with her teary-eyed request as they walked to the town car after her graduation ceremony was complete.

"Santana?"

A warm hand on her arm brought her back to the present.

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Brittany asked when her eyes refocused on their surroundings.

Santana shook her head, "Don't apologize. You're right; my mom does have a lot of free time. I guess, I just never realized that that meant she should have been spending that time with me."

Brittany's face fell, "I am so sorry, Santana. I was just trying to explain. I didn't mean to upset you."

Azure eyes began swimming in such sadness that Santana found herself wanting to apologize as well.

"No," Santana stated firmly. "No, Britt, this is in no way your fault.

"I didn't want to make you sad," her bottom lip pouted.

"You didn't," she insisted. "It is my mother's bloody fault that I am upset, not yours. I promise."

Brittany gave a tenuous smile, "You sure?"

"Positive," Santana nodded. "If anything, I am grateful."

"Grateful?" she asked in disbelief.

"You have this way of making me see truths that I'd never see otherwise."

"I just try to be honest," Brittany shrugged bashfully.

Santana placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly until blue met brown, "Promise you will always be honest with me."

Another thing she had come to realize—one she had already begun to previously suspect—while paying close attention to Brittany during their times together was that a lot of her misspoken words and unusual theories and confused meanings came from not just a struggle with word comprehension, but also a lack of focus. All it took was the tickle of grass beneath her legs as they lounged about under their tree for Brittany's imagination to be off on some wild adventure, leaving her barely half listening to what was being said. Santana's way of combating this when she had something important to say was really quite simple. She would hold the other girl's gaze, making sure she was completely focused on her before speaking. Often, she would even go a step further and touch her somehow, whether it be holding her shoulder or grazing her wrist in order to help ground the imaginative girl to her in that moment just to be sure that she was completely present. Then, after she had made sure Brittany had not only heard, but understood, she would let go of the strong hold their eyes shared, and allow the blonde to go back to half-listening while the other half of her brain went to places only Brittany could dream up.

"I promise," Brittany replied, her gaze holding onto their connection just as firmly.

Santana smiled and nodded before turning back to give Blaine one last treat. She didn't press the issue of Brittany's family anymore, despite the burning issue of Brittany acknowledging the fact that Lord Lopez was an extremely busy man, and yet he had already found the time to send Santana three letters since the school year had started. She realized that Brittany believed her parents were doing all they could, and she didn't want to ruin that for her.

"Ready to go?" she asked, dusting the remnants of owl treats from her hands.

"Yep," Brittany nodded before giving the owls a collective good-bye. There were a few hoots in reply, making a wide grin dance across her face.

"Can we come back soon and visit them?" Brittany asked hopefully as they descended down the stairs that led away from the Owlery. "I really like it there."

"Sure, Britt," Santana smiled at her squeal of excitement. "So what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?"

Brittany gave her a sadness plagued look of guilt.

"You have other plans," Santana nodded, choosing to look straight ahead rather than at the girl beside her.

"I thought I had mentioned that earlier," Brittany swore.

"No, you did," Santana assured, recalling her words from that morning. "I guess I just got…caught up."

"Want to walk with me?" Brittany offered.

"No, it's okay. I promised Quinn I would meet up with her," Santana came up with a quick excuse to not make it seem like she was too dependent on the shorter girl.

Brittany nodded, though she didn't seem entirely convinced. But instead of pushing it, she reached out and put a gentle hand on her arm, holding her gaze.

Santana couldn't help but smile, realizing what she was doing as she stared into eyes that were returning to their normal aquamarine state after having left behind their conversation in the Owlery. They were still cloudier than normal, though, and Santana felt her own sense of guilt over having made Brittany feel guilty for having prior commitments, something she promised herself she would work on.

"Promise me we will never be too busy to get 'caught up' with each other."

Santana nodded, sensing both the apology and the sincerity in her words, "I promise."

Brittany smiled, clouds completely gone from her eyes as she gave Santana's arm a quick squeeze before giving an insistent 'see you later' and hurrying off with a skip in her step. Santana watched her go, her body a mix of emotions that she struggled to shake off as she turned to go find Quinn and see what she had been up to all morning.

* * *

><p>"I thought Brittany was supposed to be meeting us here," Quinn noted as they approached their usual tree near the Great Lake. She laid her book bag on the ground beneath its branches and used it as a pillow, closing her eyes with a tired sigh. Their Herbology lesson had been a long one about the uses of a squat, purple plant known as shrivelfig.<p>

Santana just smiled knowingly, feeling energized after her nap through Professor Hagberg's lecture. She sat beside Quinn, looking up to meet a pair of feline eyes a bright sky blue as they twinkled in mischief.

Brittany sent her a wink before allowing her weight to slide back over the branch, her upper body falling with it, but her legs holding firm in their grip around the tree's limb. Santana must have seen her do that very same move nearly a dozen times already, but that didn't stop her stomach from tumbling anxiously every time she watched Brittany's body free fall for the split second or two before her legs caught the branch.

Brittany grinned at her, wiggling her eyebrows from where she now hung upside down a few feet above Quinn.

Santana struggled to stifle her giggle.

"Hey Quinn," Brittany greeted happily.

Quinn's eyes shot open, a shriek emitting from her mouth at the sight of a body suspended above her. She quickly scrambled to her feet, eyes a dark glare as they darted from Santana who was clutching her sides as the laughter poured out of her up to Brittany who was still upside down, grinning at her broadly.

"What the heck, Brittany?" she scowled. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I thought you knew I was up here," Brittany replied innocently.

"How would I know that?"

"I'm always up here," she shrugged.

"Why…what…how would I know that?" Quinn sputtered.

"Santana knew," Brittany mumbled softly with a pout.

Santana rolled her eyes, "Oh, don't be crabby just because she turned you into a scared little ninny, Fabray."

"She did not turn me into a ninny," Quinn crossed her arms firmly over her chest.

"Shall I re-enact it for you?"

"Oh, shut it, already," she huffed before taking her place back down on the ground, eying Brittany wearily before closing her eyes once more.

Santana chuckled, looking up to find Brittany sitting upright once again, "How do you get up there, anyway?"

"I climb."

Santana laughed softly at her response, "Why, though?"

Instead of replying with words, Brittany adjusted her position until she was balancing on the branch, her arms stretched downwards.

Santana eyed her skeptically.

Brittany replied with a reassuring smile and a look that urged, trust me.

Santana swallowed hard before reaching up as far as she could. Brittany had to shimmy a little further down, and Santana had to stretch up on her tippy toes before their fingers brushed together.

Brittany clasped her fingers tightly, making sure she had a good grip before pulling Santana up.

Santana felt her forearms scraping along the bark of the tree as she was pulled onto the branch. When Brittany let go of her hands, she wrapped her arms firmly around the branch, her cheek pressed against its rough coating.

Brittany giggled.

Santana chanced a glance up to find the smaller girl breathing heavily. "You know, you are really strong for your size."

Brittany grinned broadly, raising both arms and flexing them. Taut muscle pushed out against creamy skin, easily belying her tiny frame.

Santana giggled, relaxing some.

"Sit up," Brittany instructed, offering her hands once more.

Santana slowly let go of the branch and reached out to take Brittany's hands, allowing herself to be pulled up into a sitting position.

"It's just like riding a really thick broom," Brittany explained.

Santana nodded, finding her balance and realizing that she was right. "So why do you like it up here so much, again?"

Brittany let go of her hands and motioned to the school grounds all around them, "Because I get to watch the dance."

"The dance?" Santana questioned, taking in their surroundings. Then she saw it: the way the breeze blew the falling leaves, causing autumn colors to tumble across the green grass, the way the sun glittered across the lake, making various water creatures pop up from the depths to bask in its pleasant warmth, the way the students wound their way across grounds, weaving in and out of trees, amongst the gliding leaves, all around each other, leaving one group to join another. From their advantage, it all seemed so choreographed, like a dance.

Santana turned back to Brittany to find her watching her with a smile that exuded pure joy.

"You see it, huh?"

"It's…beautiful, Britt," Santana shook her head. "I never would have…thanks for sharing this with me," she lowered her voice, eyes glancing down at Quinn quickly to see her studious friend still lain beneath them with her eyes closed.

"I'd share anything with you; all you have to do is ask," Brittany replied honestly.

"Another friendship lesson?"

"A Brittany and Santana lesson," she answered after a moment of thought.

Santana smiled, turning back to watch the people moving about them, getting a silent thrill at the fact that she could see them, but they couldn't see her.

She began making up a story about how a third year Hufflepuff girl she was watching sit in a circle of her classmates who were all engaging in a lively conversation except for her was sorted into the wrong house and how she should've been sorted into Ravenclaw because she was really a secret genius, especially when it came to Astronomy and how she could name every constellation in the universe and spout of their exact locations at the drop of a hat.

Santana didn't realize she had been smiling as she partook in her favorite pastime for the first time in a long time. She did feel herself frowning slightly as she thought about the back story she had just made up, though. Could the Sorting Hat get it wrong?

She looked down at Quinn who was outwardly everything a member of Gryffindor should be, but on the inside, thrived on gossip and power and force. Santana's eyebrows rose as she realized for the first time that perhaps Quinn wasn't the perfect candidate for the Gryffindor House when it came down to it, and maybe she really did belong in Slytherin…not that she was going to admit that out loud to Quinn in fear of setting her off…yeah, Quinn was definitely Slytherin material.

Santana then turned to Brittany whose gaze was focused on something far out on the horizon. She and Brittany often joked about the Sorting Hat messing up when it placed her in Gryffindor, with Brittany even saying that the Sorting Hat must have either misunderstood her or didn't listen to her at all, but had the old hat gotten it right after all? She thought of all the things she knew about Brittany. First, out of anyone she had ever known, Brittany was easily the most knowledgeable about and best at being a friend. That would put her in Hufflepuff. Although, Brittany also looked at things in completely unique way, allowing her to view and understand the world in a way no one else around them did; she just seemed to get it. That would put her in Ravenclaw. Yet, the more they hung out together, the more Santana had become impressed with the quick snarky retorts Brittany was able to come up with when she was tearing someone down—even though her retorts seemed to be reserved for a select few individuals that just seemed to rub the girl the wrong way That would put her in Slytherin. But then there were times where all she had to do was frown disapprovingly at Santana's witty tear downs in order to get her to hold her tongue. She seemed more than ready to stand up to people, no matter their size or bite, when she felt there was an injustice going on. Not to mention all of the times Santana had seen the smaller girl do something borderline crazy like when she walked around and around the edge of the astronomy tower, skipping from parapet to parapet with no regards for the near two hundred foot drop that awaited her the night Professor Castle was half an hour late to class. Brittany was brave. That would put her in Gryffindor.

Santana took in the way the late afternoon sun was falling on the other side of Brittany, causing a golden haze to seemingly emit from within her. Yes, Brittany definitely belonged in Gryffindor. So if Quinn and Brittany both actually had been sorted correctly, then obviously she must have been sorted correctly into her House of Slytherin as well. Santana's eyebrows furrowed, not sure why that thought caused her to frown so deeply.

"Isn't that Blaine?" Brittany asked, breaking through Santana's musings.

Santana turned to look to where Brittany's gaze had been focused.

A black dot was growing larger as it approached, taking the shape of a bird, its wings rising and falling gracefully, its jet black feathers glistening under the sun. Santana smiled, even her owl had class.

"Yeah, that's him," she nodded.

"Bit late for post," Quinn noted, opening her eyes as she sat up.

Santana heard the implication in her comment, _it must be something important_. There was only one reason for her parents to be replying to her last letter this late in the day, and that was so their reply would not be received in the crowded dining hall where anyone and everyone could bear witness. She also couldn't help the internal eye roll at Quinn finally joining the conversation when Blaine's late approach meant one of two things: a howler or a big of important gossip.

Santana's smile grew as Blaine swooped under the low branches and landed easily on the branch between her and Brittany despite her growing curiosity and nerves over the letter's contents because he had managed to find her despite her semi camouflaged hiding spot amongst the trees. She scratched his head affectionately, well aware that he was the only companion she had back when she had arrived upon platform 9 ¾. Her eyes flickered to Brittany who was digging in her book bag that was hanging on a nearby branch, knowing that that was no longer the case. Brittany settle back on their branch with a smile of her own. She opened her hand, revealing a palm full of owl treats that Blaine immediately dug into.

"Thanks Britt," Santana said gratefully. "That was really thoughtful of you."

"I had some left over from our last visit to the Owlery, and I figured he'd probably be hunger after his journey," she shrugged, giggling softly as Blaine's beak tickled her palm as he ate.

"Isn't anyone going to read the letter?" Quinn asked impatiently.

Santana physically rolled her eyes this time, but reached out, nonetheless, to untie the letter from Blaine's leg, making sure not to jostle him too much as she did so while he continued to eat. She opened the letter carefully, eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper as she read it to herself.

_**Santana,**_

**_I have not had time to read the letter Blaine brought because I had to send him back immediately with this one, but I am sure all is well for you and that you are doing exactly as we taught you to and are making us proud—_**

That was true, Santana nodded before glancing up at Brittany and her crimson and gold tie…well, mostly true.

_**So, on to business. There are rumors circling around certain circles your father and I belong in that are far too heavy to ignore.**_

Santana swallowed hard. She knew what circles her mother was talking about.

_**These rumors may be just that, rumors, but we would rather not take that chance, and that is why I am turning to you.**_

**_I am sure you can recall the story I used to tell you about the Dark Lord's demise. But as a reminder, in that story, the Dark Lord attacked a family, a family that had been in hiding and had birthed a baby while in hiding. The parents were killed, and the Dark Lord turned to the baby, but his spell backfired, and both he and the infant perished._**

**_Now, however, there are rumors circulating that the baby did not die, that someone found the baby alive and hid him away, leaving a fake decoy in its place so that no one would search for him. If these rumors are in fact true and that baby did indeed survive, then he would now be your age, meaning that there is a significant chance that he could be attending Hogwarts right now, enrolled amongst you and your fellow First Years._**

**_I want you to keep an eye out for him. If he takes after his parents, he would have light colored hair and eyes, but do not just rely on that because whoever has been caring for him could have altered that with a simple spell. Instead, look for someone with unusual talents. His parents were powerful wizards, and he should be too. Keep an ear to the ground for any First Year boys with strange abilities or a grand aptitude for spells, and report back to me with any names you come up with._**

**_And needless to say, I need you to keep this information and search to yourself. Not many people know about it, and for now, it needs to stay that way._**

**_Evelyn Black Lopez_**

"Well?" Quinn pressed brusquely.

Santana allowed the letter to fall down to Quinn so she could read it herself. Under different circumstances, she would have admired the way Quinn snatched the letter out of the air effortlessly, but as it were, her mind was spinning too dizzyingly from what she had just read to focus on anything else.

"What's going on?" Brittany asked worriedly as she gently ruffled Blaine's feathers with her now empty hand.

"Has there ever been some thing, some truth or fact, that has been present throughout your entire life, that much of your life was actually based upon?"

"Like Santa?"

"Yes," Santana nodded. "Exactly like Santa. Now, do you remember what it felt like when that truth was suddenly pulled out from under you when you realized it, in fact, was a lie?"

"No," Brittany's nose scrunched in confusion. "Why would Santa lie?"

Santana's eyes widened as she realized the implication of Brittany's answer. She decided to store that for a rainy day, now not being the time to deal with Brittany's belief in purely mythical figures.

"Okay, maybe Santa was a bad example," Santana allowed. "Let's just skip examples. Do you remember the stories of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Brittany shook her head.

"Really?" Santana questioned in shock.

"We must have different fairy tales in America," she offered.

"No, Britt, this is not a fairy tale, and I cannot believe your parents never taught you about him. He is a major part of our recent history. He was the most powerful wizard in the world before everything fell apart."

"What happened?" Blue eyes latched onto brown in intense curiosity.

Santana went into the abridged story of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his downfall, explaining about the baby and the curse that backfired. As the story came to a close, she noticed the struggle in Brittany's eyes over which emotion to settle upon: sadness or anger.

"He killed an innocent baby?" Brittany's voice came out low, an open threat in her tone. Anger had clearly won out.

"Well, there was a prophecy that said the baby was going to be more powerful than him," Santana gave the explanation that her own mother had given her after telling her the story for the first time when she was little and Santana replied with a question similar to Brittany's. Hers had been a question of sadness, though.

"So?!" Brittany replied in exasperation. "He couldn't at least wait until the baby grew up so that it would be a fair fight?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does not like waiting," Santana replied solemnly.

"Well the guy sounds like a coward," Brittany spat. "An evil coward."

Santana's eyes widened. She had never heard anyone call him that before.

"I'm glad he's dead."

"Well, that's the thing," Santana began carefully. "In the letter, my mother said—"

"Not to share this news with anyone," Quinn cut her off firmly.

"It's Brittany," Santana replied as she looked down at her, as if that were all the explanation needed.

"Santana…" Quinn warned you.

"I showed _you_."

"That's different. You knew I will be hearing about it any day now from my own parents."

"My letter, my judgement," Santana said with finality before turning back to face Brittany. "My mother said that there is a rumor going around that the baby survived. If that's true, and he did, then he should be at Hogwarts in our very year."

"So he survived?" Brittany asked hopefully.

"It's just a rumor," Santana answered. "But my mother has set it upon me to find out whether or not that rumor is true."

"Why does it matter if it is or isn't? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead; it doesn't matter if there's a child running around that could grow up to defeat him because he is already defeated. Let the child live his life. He suffered enough because of the creep, let him enjoy the guy's death."

"That's the thing," Santana stated carefully, her voice slightly shaky as she thought about the hidden revelation in her mother's words, a revelation her mother would have never written down. Implications and hidden meanings were something Santana had mastered at an early age—her parents and their acquaintances thrived on them. "If the baby lived, then there is a good chance that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did as well."


	9. Year 1 Chapter 9

"What are you doing?" Santana asked as she walked up to Brittany who was tightening the strap of her book bag across her chest where she stood under their preferred tree. She had been hoping to sneak up on her, like the other girl had the tendency of doing, but Brittany just glanced back at her with her ever mischievous smile before taking a running start towards the tree. She jumped, planting a foot firmly against the trunk and using it to push off and propel herself higher, allowing her to reach up and wrap her arms around the thick branch she usually sat on.

"So that's how you do it," Santana nodded.

"Well, I can't very well fly up here without a broom," Brittany replied as she shrugged off her book bag and hung it on a nearby branch after having pulled herself up into a sitting position. "You coming?"

"Of course," Santana smiled, walking towards the tree and placing her bag down on the ground before stretching her arms up as high as they could go. She felt Brittany's fingers latch around her own followed by the now familiar sensation of being pulled through the air, her stomach nearly keeping up with the rest of her after having performed the maneuver so many times now. She straddled the branch, smiling at Brittany once she was settled and her legs were wrapped firmly around the tree—she wasn't yet ready to sit side saddle like Brittany preferred to do.

"How was your morning?" Brittany asked warmly, taking both of her hands in her own so that Santana would cease her vice-like grip on the branch.

"Filled with too much homework and too much of Quinn grumbling about how I should've gotten my homework done during the week."

"I still can't believe Professor Sylvester assigned you that essay. Your potion was way better than anyone else's."

"Thanks Britt," Santana felt her cheeks warm. It was nice to know that she had in fact done a good job like she thought and she wasn't, in fact, losing her touch.

Brittany just shrugged, letting go of one of Santana's hands so she could turn back to watch the people walking around them.

"Um, how was your morning?"

Brittany's face lit up, "Look at you making small talk."

"Britt…" Santana groaned, ducking her head.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Brittany giggled, giving the hand that she was still holding a squeeze. "But my morning was okay."

"Just okay?"

"I don't know if you're aware of this, but the Gryffindors are kind of goody two shoes, like, literally. They have no clue how to lighten things up."

"Of that I am aware," Santana nodded. "It is one of the few Gryffindor traits that Quinn actually possesses. But what were they doing this morning to inhibit your fun?"

"I was bored and decided to play a prank, so I tied these two guys shoes together—"

"Hence the goody two shoes," Santana smiled.

"Exactly," Brittany nodded before continuing. "How was I to know that it would lead to one of them dislocating their hip?"

Santana laughed loudly, "Of course they would. Gryffindorks."

"After that I wasn't allowed to do anything, and just had to sit there and watch them play."

"Well that stinks. You should have bailed on them and come find me."

"I can't just bail on them, Santana," Brittany gave her that soft smile that said that much should have been obvious to her.

"Stupid Sorting Hat," Santana grumbled, looking out around them.

"Any luck in the hunt for He-Who-whatever's murder but not murdered victim?"

"It's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and no, unfortunately."

"Seriously, who would name their child that? I bet that's why he was so mean. He was probably upset at his parents for giving him that awful and near impossible to remember name."

"Britt," Santana gave a soft chuckle through her smile. "That's not his real name. That's just what some people call him because they are afraid of saying his name. It's like a nickname. He has a few: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, the Dark Lord, What's-His-Face-Who-Doesn't-Have-A-Face."

"You made that last one up," Brittany giggled.

"Perhaps," Santana shrugged, her smile growing.

"But why would people be afraid of saying his name? It's just a name."

"He did some really bad things, Brittany," she replied, her smile fading.

"Yeah, but by refusing to say his name, you're only giving him more power. It's like a curse word, right? They're just words that only hold so much power because people give that power to them, but really, they are no different than other words. What's the difference between me saying 'what the heck?' or 'what the hell?' or 'what the fuck' if my intent is the same for each one of them? They all mean the same thing, so why is one bad?"

Santana drank her words in, before replying with a realized, "You never did have a problem with cursing."

"It's just a word; what is his real name?"

Santana swallowed, her eyes falling to the side, "Tom Riddle."

"Tom? Really? Everybody's afraid of saying such an ordinary name? I'm kind of disappointed."

"Well, Tom was his birth name," Santana admitted. "He refers to himself by a different name. That's the name that people are scared of."

"And what is it?"

Santana chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"Santana?" Brittany ducked her head to be able to catch his eye. "What's his name?

"Britt…" Santana shook her head.

"How about you tell me in pieces? That way you aren't actually saying it?" she offered.

Santana nodded. She couldn't see how that would be bad, "Okay."

"Okay," Brittany nodded with a small, but playful smile. "Then what?"

"Britt," Santana groaned again at her playful antics. "Okay, his name is, Vol-"

"Vol," Brittany nodded, her eyes trained on Santana's lips.

"-de-"

"-de-"

"-mort."

"-mort?"

Santana nodded.

"Vol-de-mort. Voldemort?"

Santana nodded again, feeling a shiver run down her spine.

"Voldemort..." Brittany tried out. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort."

"You always did like to curse," Santana shook her head, struggling against the urge to bring her hand up and clamp it over the other girl's mouth.

"It's just a name," Brittany reminded. "No different than mine or yours…well, nowhere near as pretty as yours, but still…"

Santana gave bashful smile, "Thanks, Britt."

Brittany merely shrugged as she turned back to take in their surroundings once more.

After few moments of silent observation, Santana sighed, "I feel like my mother sent me on an impossible mission."

"How so?"

"We're First Years. If someone can hold their wand without poking their eye out, it's considered a success. How am I supposed to find someone with extraordinary talent when we are too young to even know how to use that talent? And then, how am I supposed to discern actual talent from people like those annoying Ravenclaws who do nothing but study and practice spells all day?"

"I think you're just going to have to go with your gut."

"My gut's telling me it's impossible."

"My gut's telling me I'm hungry," Brittany replied as her stomach growled.

"Didn't you eat lunch?"

"No time," Brittany shook her head, a pout on her lips.

"Come on, I'm sure they have some fruit or something in the Hall for between-meal snacks," Santana smiled, squeezing Brittany's hand.

+++gw+++

"What about Finn?" Santana suggested, watching as he tried to use a switching spell on the mug and the slug in front of him—slugs were Professor Holiday's favorite choice when teaching First Years since they were the least likely to run away, and even if they did, it was very slowly and they could be caught. A small pop and the mug now had a set of ears and Finn had a silver handle on either side of his head.

"Seriously?" Quinn looked at her in a confused state of shock. "_You _think Finn qualifies as powerful with a grand aptitude for spells?"

Two days after Santana had received the letter from her mother concerning rumors going around certain parts of the Wizarding world, Quinn was sent a similar one from her own parents, just as the two girls had predicted. The story of the rumors and the instructions to find the boy were near identical with only small exceptions—mainly Quinn's father referring to the Dark Lord as You-Know-Who. A couple weeks had passed since then, and neither girl was any closer to an answer.

"Obviously not," Santana replied as three of Finn's fingers were added to his mug, causing his wand to fall to the desk. "But…my mother's letter did say to look for someone with unusual talents, and I mean, being that tall with that big of a head and yet showing less sign of a brain activity than a vegetable? That has to be as unusual of a talent as they come," she finished with a smirk. A wave of her wand and her mug had a shell. Another wave and it completely switched places with the snail, causing her smirk to grow.

"I really do not think now is a time for jokes, Santana," Quinn huffed, successfully switching and then switching back the mug and snail with little effort.

Santana frowned, narrowing her eyes at the items before her. She took a steadying breath, and with a turn of her wrist, the snail and mug switched on the first try. She couldn't help the beaming smile that spread across her face.

"About time," Quinn replied with a roll of her eyes, though Santana knew her well enough to detect the 'job well done' in her voice. They had never been ones to outright compliment each other's achievements, but they knew that they both took some pride in their friend's accomplishments, if for no other reason than if one were to show any sign of incompetence, then the other would have to be on the search for a new friend to take her place.

"Yeah, yeah," Santana waved her wand and switched the two items back again.

"Back to business, though, I really think you need to be taking this search more seriously," Quinn noted.

"How am I not taking it seriously?" Santana asked, waving her wand and switching her mug with the snail on Finn's desk, chuckling at the confused look on the boy's face.

Quinn frowned at her.

"Oh, lighten up, Q. You know I have been keeping an eye out for any unusual activity ever since my mom sent me that letter. It seems like that is all we have been doing lately. A couple minutes of fun isn't going to hurt any. In fact, it will probably help."

"Oh really now? Please, Santana, enlighten me on how taking time and concentration away from our search is in any way going to change the fact that we are no closer to finding this kid than we were two weeks ago when we received the letters?"

"I don't know, something about giving the mind a break or how creativity would help keep our eyes open," Santana waved her off. "Where's Brittany when you need her? This is really more of her thing. I am sure if you asked her, she would know right off."

"Speaking of Brittany," Quinn frowned. "I must once again say that I really don't think it was a good idea including her in this. What if she tells someone? She does not seem like the type of person who has control over her tongue."

"She's not going to tell anyone; she pinky swore."

"Oh, she pinky swore. That totally makes me worry less."

"Stop being so cranky. She didn't even know who the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was, she says she still doesn't fully understand it, so how exactly is she going to go blabbing about it to other people?"

"I don't know," she admitted softly.

"Having one more set of eyes on the lookout is nothing but a good thing," Santana assured with a hint of finality in her words.

Quinn sighed, waving her wand to switch back Finn and Noah's snail with their mug.

"No fun," Santana shook her head.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"You're going to the Quidditch match today, right?" Santana asked as she looked up from her potion which was now a simmering navy and over to Brittany's which was a bright pink. She had the feeling the other girl had grown bored with the assignment and was just trying to make her potion the prettiest color possible.

"Duh," Brittany replied, as if Santana had just asked something as absurd as if Brittany planned on breathing later that afternoon. She added a few leaves of aconite to turn her potion a shiny purple and beamed proudly.

"I know it's your house that Slytherin's playing," Santana began. "But I figured you could sit with us if you wanted. Slytherin versus Gryffindor is usually the biggest match of the season, so I think people are going to be too excited to take notice."

Brittany looked at Santana as if she had grown three heads, "I can't."

"You can't?" Santana replied, puzzled. She couldn't remember the last time somebody had turned down one of her offers. She was a Lopez, after all.

"I can't," Brittany repeated, clapping excitedly as her potion started to glitter under the low dungeon lights.

"Why not? You spend more time in our house than you do in Gryffindor. I actually think the majority of people don't know you're not actually in Slytherin," Santana pointed out, knowing her mother would scold her for at least an hour if she ever heard of how close her daughter was to begging.

"Because it'd be impossible," Brittany pointed out. She pulled out a vial and filled it up with the sparkly potion in her cauldron before placing the stopper firmly on it.

Santana watched, dumbfounded as Brittany skipped up to the front of the class and handed her vial to Professor Sylvester. The professor looked at the vial in confusion before looking up at the small girl before her. Her mouth, that had been open as if prepared to begin one of her long verbal thrashings, closed with a sigh and a shake of the head, as if realizing whatever remarks she made would only be wasted on the unperturbed student. Brittany whispered something to her, and Professor Sylvester replied with a nod and a wave of her hand. Brittany smiled as she skipped back to her seat to gather her bags.

"Where are you going?" Santana asked.

A pair of blue eyes, sparkling nearly as much as the purple concoction in the cauldron next to them looked up at Santana in amusement, "You're acting funny today."

And with that, Santana watched Brittany skip out of class. "_I'm _acting funny?" she asked to nobody but the air around her.

"Lopez," Professor Sylvester's voice sliced through her confusion. "I know that tiny brain of yours is filled to the brim with all sorts of adolescent musings that are filled with the utmost importance to someone of you vast level of immaturity like what you plan on wearing tomorrow, or whether or not your daddy loves you, or if you have what it takes to make it in the world—of which I've yet to see any evidence that would point to a yes-but can you please ignore those voices while you are in my class and check your psychotic episodes at the door upon entering, because frankly, I could not give less of a damn about any of it."

Santana felt her cheeks warm as everyone's eyes turned towards her. She glared back, and they quickly averted their gazes. Her hand dug through her bag, pulling out a vial and filling it with her now potion before corking it carefully.

She pulled her bag over her shoulder and walked up to the front of the class to turn in her work.

Professor Sylvester frowned as she picked up the vial Santana had placed on her desk, "Really now, Lopez, you truly are a disgrace to the Slytherin house if you can't even brew something as simple as a Boil Cure. I mean, look at this, I specifically recall stating at the beginning of class that it should be an Egyptian blue, this is a Persian blue at best. I expect an essay on my desk by this time next week detailing where exactly your inadequate mind went wrong."

"How long?" Santana replied through clenched teeth.

Professor Sylvester caught her gaze challengingly, "A foot should do."

It took all of Santana's restraint to turn around and walk out of the classroom without completely losing her cool. The only thing holding her in check was her mother's voice, telling her how important it was to remain in Professor's Sylvester's good graces.

+++gw+++

Santana huffed as she sat down next to Quinn, in the middle of a crowd of Slytherins. "What is the point of this? Everyone knows that Gryffindors are just a bunch of pansies. We're going to slaughter them."

"I said the same thing this morning," Quinn replied. "But Professor Holiday said something about fairness…and tacos."

"Fairness?" Santana scoffed. "We'll see about fairness when our guys put their entire team in the hospital wing."

"Where's Brittany? After the way she was so entranced with the last match, I wouldn't think a pack of wild unicorns could keep her away."

"Yea, well, apparently, it's impossible for her to join us from now on," Santana rolled her eyes, talking over the announcer—whose name she had still not deemed important enough to learn—and his opening commentary as the two teams took the field.

"Weird," Quinn nodded. "But then again this is Brittany we're talking about…"

Santana frowned as she turned to the fourth year boy next to her who was yelling obnoxiously loud and yanked him down by the back of his shirt, "Sit down, fatty."

The blow of a whistle captured Santana's attention and she turned to face the field as the two teams flew up into the air. Not even four seconds had passed when the announcer's voice rang throughout the stadium, proclaiming a Gryffindor goal.

"Bloody hell, what was that?" the boy next to her asked.

"Luck," Santana shrugged even though in all the professional quidditch matches her father had taken her to, she couldn't remember ever witnessing a team score as fast as Gryffindor just had. "Did you catch the name?"

"It all happened too fast," he shook his head. "The announcer barely had time to even say g—"

"GOAL!" the announcer's voice broke in.

"_¿En serioso?_" Santana groaned, focusing back on the field. The Slytherin chasers in possession of the quaffle were now heading for their own goal with the two beaters effectively holding back the two Gryffindor chasers that were in pursuit. "That's more like it," Santana nodded, but that's when she saw it: a red and gold blur streaking across the field, easily dodging Slytherin beaters and bludgers and chasers as if they weren't even there. The blur caught up with the lead Slytherin chaser and slowed down just long enough for Santana to notice the long blonde hair streaming behind her. Then she sped up again, flipping gracefully through the air to face the opposite direction and speed back the other way, passing right next to the lead chaser and once again easily dodging the rest of the Slytherin team before scoring a third goal.

"And Gryffindor pulls ahead to a quick 30-0 with the help of their young chaser," the announcer's grin could be heard through his words.

"When did she even get the quaffle?" Santana questioned.

"I have no clue," Quinn shook her head.

"I think she took it when she passed next to our chaser," the fourth year by Santana replied. "But I'm not sure; it was all so…"

"Smooth," Santana finished for him, as she watched, completely entranced as the blonde girl flipped through the air on her broom in celebration. She couldn't remember ever seeing anything like it. The girl moved so quickly, yet so fluidly; it was like the broom wasn't even there, or better yet, like the broom was just an extension of her body with the way she moved on it, effortlessly weaving in and out of players, changing directions at the turn of a dime, spinning dizzily to outmaneuver and confuse her rival chasers.

It wasn't until the girl had scored another two goals and assisted in a third that she finally paused, hovering in the air over the Gryffindor goal posts to seemingly catch her breath, just long enough for Santana to finally get a good look at her. Her mouth dropped open in shock, "Holy—"

"Santana," Quinn cut her off in admonishment.

"It's Brittany!" Santana proclaimed, jerking Quinn's head to force her to see what she was seeing.

"Bloody hell," Quinn's eyes widened as she caught sight of the Gryffindor chaser just before she took off once more, tearing across the field at breakneck speeds.

Santana shook her head in awe as she watched Brittany steal the quaffle and race back towards her own goal. Studying her now, Santana couldn't believe she hadn't recognized her sooner. She had never met anyone who could perform even the simplest of tasks with as much grace as the tiny girl who was currently adding to the Gryffindor's already hefty lead could. It only made sense that she would be the most graceful person on a broom that Santana had ever seen as well.

"Are you seeing this?" she asked, glancing to Quinn to find her friend sporting narrowed eyes and a calculating smile as Brittany assisted for another goal. Santana merely rolled her eyes and turned back to the match, not even bothering trying to figure out how Quinn was plotting to use Brittany's newly discovered talent to her advantage.

As the match went on, Santana had to sit on her hands to keep from applauding Brittany's playing, knowing that to do so would only plant her as a traitor in the mind of those around her, and if Santana Lopez was anything, she was loyal. When Brittany extended Gryffindor's lead to 120-0 and the boy next to Santana yelled for the Slytherin beaters to knock her off her broom, though, Santana could not prevent herself from jerking him back down onto his seat. "I thought I told you to sit down and shut up, you useless tub of lard."

She focused back on the game, remaining silent as the rest of her house cheered when the Slytherin team started to play increasingly dirty, her jaw clenching every time a chaser would shoot straight towards Brittany seemingly with every intention of doing just as the boy next to her had called for: knocking the young player off her broom, from hundreds of feet up in the air. Instead, she yelled along with those Slytherins screaming for their seeker to get off his ass and find the snitch, thereby ending the game. She saw it as the best possible outcome: her team would win, and Brittany would remain in one piece. When Brittany then increased her team's lead to 130-0, Santana held her breath as both Slytherin beaters took a swing at her with their clubs as the quaffle was put back into play, foregoing any remaining pretenses of even aiming for a bludger, both of which were zooming around on the opposite side of the field.

Brittany dodged them easily, and then paused as they both raced back towards her from opposite sides. Brittany seemed not to notice as she held her position, and Santana prayed that there wasn't another butterfly floating around up there that had captured her attention and distracted her from the game. The roar from the crowd increased as the beaters approached. The Slytherins were egging them on while the rest of the stadium seemed to be trying to get Brittany's attention to warn her. Just as the beaters raised their clubs, now only feet away, Santana saw it: a lip curving smirk spreading across Brittany's face. She wasn't used to seeing such a confident and borderline cocky expression on the other girl's visage, and it proved to be too much for Santana's self-control. She jumped to her feet, cheering the blonde's name as loud as she could, figuring the stadium's volume would drown out her voice anyway.

Not until the beaters' clubs were inches away from impact did Brittany finally move. She flew straight up through the air in a tight spiral, flipping back around and underneath the two beaters just before they collided in midair. She sped to the other side of the field, using the Slytherin team's momentary distraction to score another goal. After that, Santana had to struggle to keep from covering her eyes as the entire Slytherin team chased after Brittany, including the two beaters who seemed to have temporarily recovered from their collision.

Santana held her breath once more, not seeing how Brittany had the guts to not only continue playing, but to do so at such a level that had the entire opposing team gunning for her with no visible sign of caring about how bad they were going to injure her when they finally caught up to her.

When Brittany scored again, making it 150-0, Quinn grabbed Santana's arm, "Is she crazy? If she scores again, it won't even matter if we catch the snitch because Gryffindor will be too far ahead, and there's no way our chasers will be able to score with her on the field.

Santana swallowed hard, understanding what Quinn was getting at. If Brittany scored again, the Slytherin team would make sure that she was taken out of the game, one way or another, because it was the only way to give them a chance for a Slytherin victory.

The announcer's voice, declaring another Gryffindor goal by Pierce, drew Santana's eyes towards the Gryffindor goalposts. The events that followed the goal seemingly happened in slow motion: Brittany flipping grandly through the air on her broom—unarmed since the point was over and play was halted until Coach Tanaka blew the whistle and re-released the quaffle—and the two Slytherin beaters speeding towards her with renewed vigor after being humiliated by an adolescent girl.

The three of them collided with a sickening crack. Santana ignored Coach Tanaka's shrill whistles and the two beaters ignorance of the whistles as they flew across the field in celebration. Her eyes were transfixed to Brittany's limp body as it tumbled downwards through the air. The Gryffindor team captain sped towards her and caught the tiny girl in his arms, softening the blow as much as he could just before she hit the ground where the nurse rushed to await her arrival, along with a floating stretcher, Professor Figgins, and—to Santana's and probably many other students' surprise—Professor Sylvester.

+++gw+++

Santana didn't remember the walk to the hospital wing; she didn't know who owned any of the pairs of arms that were holding her back as she struggled against them, her feet dangling off the floor, nor could she process any of the words that were flowing from her mouth in a stream of heated Spanish. All she was aware of was the burning anger boiling up, through her veins as the nurse standing before her refused to let her in to see Brittany because of the house colors that Santana was currently sporting.

"P-please," the elderly nurse's voice shook nervously. "You can't be in h-here right now. The last thing this p-poor girl needs is another attack."

This caused Santana to launch into a new explicative-filled tirade.

"Santana," Quinn breathed heavily from beside her, allowing her to identify one of the pairs of arms. "You are not helping matters…you need to calm down. She'll never let us in if you're like this."

"I'm sorry," the nurse shook her head. "B-but it's only friends allowed into this wing."

"We _are_ her friends," Quinn spat back.

That declaration was enough to make Santana calm some. She couldn't recall Quinn ever referring to Brittany as her friend before.

"I know you may be cooped up in this pitiful excuse for a 'hospital' all the time while you play doctor, so you aren't as privy to the going-ons of this school as everybody else," Quinn continued, "but ask anybody: we are Brittany's friends, more-so than any of those dweebs in her own house. Heck, she spends more time in our common room than she does in her own."

The nurse glanced between the pair of girls unsurely.

"Ok, look," Quinn's voice lowered icily. "We are the last two people at this school that you want to be pissing off. Do you know who I am? I am the Honourable Quinn Fabray, daughter of Viscount Fabray, soon to be Earl of Ashley as soon as my grandfather dies, and one of this school's biggest financial supporters. This young lady next to me is Lady Santana Lopez, daughter of Earl Lopez, cousin to the King of Spain, and also one of this school's biggest financial supporters, and Evelyn Black…that's right, Black."

Santana shrugged off the arms still restraining her and stood up straighter as Quinn addressed her by her title, knowing that if this were any other occasion, the girl next to her would've have added a 'very distant' to her father's relationship with the King of Spain, but she wouldn't be Quinn without knowing when to say what in order to get something she wanted. She drew her shoulders back, the pride she felt at hearing her title replacing the anger coursing through her.

"I'm sorry," the nurse squeaked. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't know…I thought you were…you can see her right away, but please—"

Quinn quirked an eyebrow at the nurse still having the audacity to ask anything of them.

"She's right through there," the nurse pointed to a white curtain that was drawn.

Santana rushed forward and pushed her way through the curtain to find the petite blonde laying unconscious with her blankets pulled up around her and a white bandage wrapped securely around her head. Lying there with her feet barely reaching the halfway point of the bed and pale lashes resting against purpling skin, Santana couldn't help but note the difference between the girl before her and the girl she had seen soaring through the air not twenty minutes before.

Quinn placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Santana looked up as the nurse approached them.

"Is she…how is she? Is she going to be okay?" Santana asked fearfully.

"She woke up when we got her here," the nurse informed. "But I gave her something to knock her back out because she was just in too much pain. She had a broken wrist, a couple of broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, but I was able to mend them as good as could be expected. Her wrist was particularly difficult—it was shattered to pieces—but I did what I could; it will need some time to finish healing completely. She also took a nasty blow to the head with a club, but as of right now, she is stable. I'll be able to know more when she wakes up."

"And when will she wake up?"

"I gave her enough to keep her under until the morning. We will see how she is doing then."

"Not until tomorrow morning?"

"Yes."

"You're positive?"

"Yes."

Santana nodded before waving her away, "That will be all, then."

The nurse gave her a look of shock before she collected herself and hurried away and into her office.

"Can you wait with her?" Santana asked, finally managing to tear her eyes away from Brittany to look at Quinn.

"Where are you going?"

"Can you stay or not?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Sure."

+++gw+++

When Santana finally returned to the hospital wing, her face was set. She pushed the partition away from around Brittany's bed, just enough to allow herself through before collapsing in the empty chair next to Quinn who was reading silently to herself.

"What was that about?" Quinn asked, not looking up from her book.

"Had a couple of things I needed to take care of," Santana shrugged.

"Are they at least still alive?"

"Unfortunately," she grumbled, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hands. She could feel Quinn's eyes on her, but she kept her own focused on Brittany's hand that had escaped from under the bed sheet. It was wrapped in a cast to protect it as the nurse's healing spell took its full effect. Tiny fingers curled out from the end of the cast, each nail sporting a different color of polish.

"I have never seen you act like that before," Quinn noted. "Earlier, with Madame Schuester, you completely lashed out. I mean, I've seen you bitchy, and mean, but you just lost it."

Santana simultaneously ignored her and leaned across her lap to open the drawer of the small bedside table next to her. Her hand dug around a bit before enclosing around a quill and a bottle of ink. She straightened back up, carefully setting the bottle of ink down on Brittany's bed and opening it up. Sharpened quill was dipped into black ink before being brought to the cast, and Santana slowly began to doodle her way over the hardened material.

"Are you ok?" Quinn tried, albeit a little stiffly.

"I was angry because that old hag was trying to send me away as if I were some homeless peasant begging for scraps. I am a Lopez, and I will be treated as such, even if it means having to demand the respect I am entitled to."

"You weren't acting like a Lopez; you were acting like a crazy person."

"Yes, because holding all of your anger at the world in and constantly denying its existence is definitely the much saner thing to do," Santana rolled her eyes.

Quinn's eyes twitched, "All I mean is that if you want to be treated with the respect that is due to people of our class, then you need to act as if you actually belong in our class. It's the same thing I'm always telling you."

"Whatever," Santana replied, huffing away the lock of hair that had fallen into her line of vision.

"Fine, act like a heathen, destroy what your parents have worked so hard to create for you. I'm going to the Great Hall for supper so I can catch up on what happened after we left the match," she announced, tucking her novel away under her arm as she stood.

Santana stared down at the curvy black letters that were now scrawled across the once perfectly white cast.

"Aren't you coming?"

Santana shook her head.

"You can't expect to stay on top by staying out of the loop," Quinn pointed out.

"The hospital wing should be receiving a few…deposits soon. I don't want to leave Brittany alone with them, not when she's in this state."

"Suit yourself," Quinn replied as she passed by on her way out.

Santana's eyes remained on the first half of her signature that looped its way messily along Brittany's cast in large letters. She hadn't even realized she had been writing her name; she was supposed to just be doodling so that she would have something to do. Now, she wasn't sure how she felt about seeing her name staring back at her, permanently staking its claim on Brittany's cast without so much as a nod of consent from the blonde. What if Brittany didn't want to parade around with Santana's name on her arm for the week or so she had to wear the cast?

Santana's mind flashed back to the fear in the beaters' eyes when she had cornered them as they left the Slytherin locker room and to the way their entire bodies froze at the sight of her clenched fists, despite the fact that both of them were nearly a foot taller than her. She dipped the quill into the ink once more and set back to work on the cast.

When she pulled back, a satisfied smile curled across her face. "_Santana Lopez_," she read her name out loud. If her mere presence was enough to turn a pair of sixth year boys into a set of blanched grovelers, then her name prominently written on Brittany's cast ought to be enough to keep the talented chaser safe from any further attacks, at least until she was fully healed and could protect herself.


	10. Year 1 Chapter 10

The sound of not so hushed, whispered voices woke Santana from her light sleep. The ache in her neck caused a groan to form in the back of her throat, but she quickly bit it back at the realization that she was not in her bed. She was, in fact, sitting in a chair, leaning forward to rest her head on something resembling soft which at least explained the ache. She slowly peeked one eye open to find herself looking up at a sleeping Brittany, the tiny fingers poking out of a hard cast near Santana's forehead and the scratchy sheets beneath her cheek reminding her of the day's—or maybe the previous day's, since she wasn't sure just how late it was—events: the quidditch match, Brittany surprising everyone by almost single-handedly beating the Slytherin team, the sneak attack by the Slytherin beaters that landed her in the hospital wing, Santana's argument with the nurse.

The hurried discussion coming from behind her, near the foot of her bed, caused Santana to quickly shut her eyes, not wanting them know that she was still awake and could hear them.

"Well?" a voice pushed, and Santana's body tensed at the recognition of Professor Sylvester's curt tone.

"It's hard to say really," a nervous voice that Santana easily allocated to the nurse replied.

"How is it hard to say?" Professor Sylvester demanded "Is she going to be okay or isn't she?"

Santana had to squeeze her eyes tightly to keep them from shooting open in surprise. They were talking about Brittany, and Professor Sylvester sounded…worried.

"Well, her recovery may take a while. I definitely will not clear her to fly anytime soon. Head trauma is a very serious matter, and should not be taken lightly."

"Yea, yea, what do you mean by anytime soon?"

"Well…she definitely should not fly again for a good month at least, but I definitely will not release her for another Quidditch match before the end of the school year. Another blow to the head anytime soon could be devastating, and for someone so small, it wouldn't take much—"

"Why would I care about the rest of the year?" Professor Sylvester questioned, clearly losing whatever patience she had previously possessed. "If Gryffindor never won another game, I'd be ecstatic. Unless all that time sniffing the dust collecting in your aged wrinkles has finally caught up to your brain causing it to completely short circuit—which with you could quite possibly be seen as an improvement—then you know what I'm asking about. Next year…is she going to be fine come next year, you useless excuse for a health care professional? I mean, really, it's the only thing Figgins has been talking about for ages…Oh for heaven's sake, I'm talking about the interschool competition. I swear, talking to you is worse than pulling teeth, and I would know. These pearly white…not my own. I had every single one of my teeth pulled out years ago so that if I ever were captured and tortured for information, they wouldn't get very far if they chose the dental method—which is my personal favorite by the way. Always gotta stay one step ahead of the enemy, I say."

Professor Sylvester's ramblings were met with silence.

"Well?!" she barked.

Santana winced, hoping that whatever potion the nurse had given Brittany was strong enough to let her slumber undisturbed through the heated, albeit confusing conversation going on not three feet away.

"Um…what was the question again?"

Professor Sylvester groaned in frustration, "Is Pierce going to be ready to go come next year?"

"Oh, yes, yes, she should be good as new by then," the nurse managed to answer.

"Hm…good as new, that's what I was afraid of."

"I thought you wanted her to get better?"

"What I want is for her to be in top form. She is new and extremely raw. A year of quidditch would've helped that…"

"I'm not going to release her early."

"No, no, I agree. She's no good to me dead before the competition begins. Now if this were a couple years in the future and we had a decent enough lead and we were having this conversation…ah, well, that is of no importance. No quidditch, but what about training?"

"I can only imagine what kind of training you would put her through, Professor, and I really don't think that is the best of ideas," the nurse admitted.

"Not me, Blondie. It's against the rules for the coach to run any kind of training before the designated date. I was talking about getting some of her own team and maybe some from the other house's to help develop her."

"Would the other houses help?" the nurse asked curiously. "I know Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw unite when the opponent is Slytherin, but otherwise, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw want the trophy just as much as the rest of them; I can't see them helping a member of another house's team, especially one as gifted as Brittany, and especially without knowing the circumstances."

"They'll help if they want any hope of passing my class," Professor Sylvester said assuredly.

"Well, then, I'll allow it under the condition that I am there to supervise, particularly when other houses are involved, to make sure things don't get too out of hand."

"You've got yourself a deal," Professor Sylvester agreed, and the shuffling of footsteps signaled her departure.

"But no flying for four weeks!" the nurse called out in reminder.

"Four days, got it," came Professor Sylvester's diminishing reply.

"Weeks, Professor, I said weeks!" the nurse's quick footsteps hurried after the professor's retreating form.

Santana let out a heavy sigh as she sat up, stretching her neck to glance over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before allowing her eyes to fall back to Brittany who was sleeping just as peacefully as she had been since Santana entered the hospital wing.

"What the hell was that about?" Santana wondered out loud, confusion knitting her brow. She shook her head, dissolving away the questions, knowing that her brain was already too scattered from everything else to even begin to try and piece together the puzzling conversation.

Instead, she decided to settle on the fact that Brittany was going to be okay in the end. Almond-shaped eyes traveled over bandages and bruises, her stomach refusing to release the last twist of anxiety as the nurse's warning played over and over in her head.

'A blow to the head anytime soon could be devastating.'

'She's no good to me dead.'

Santana swallowed forcefully. Yes, all signs pointed to Brittany having a full recovery, but she was by no means out of the woods yet. "She's so small," Santana repeated the nurse's earlier sentiment as her eyes traveled over the tiny bruised and broken form in front of her. The girl looked so frail and…alone, Santana realized. Brittany was all alone, more so than the rest of the students at their boarding school of sorts; she was on a foreign continent, an ocean away from everything she's ever known, and this is how she's treated: like target practice for the Slytherin quidditch team.

Santana felt sick. Brittany didn't deserve this, not Brittany who was quick to befriend any stranger she met and always waiting with a whimsical line or two to brighten the mood. Santana's eyes traveled over Brittany's sleeping form once more, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort her, to let her know that she wasn't alone, but all Santana could see were stitches and bandages and purpling skin. Her eyes finally settled on Brittany's fingers that were creeping out from the end of her cast. They seemed to be the only part of the girl not plagued by injury. But when Santana moved her own hand towards them, she realized that they were too small and the cast too big to allow her to actually hold her hand. So, Santana reached forward once more, being careful not to squeeze too tightly as she linked her extended pinky with Brittany's.

+++gw+++

When Santana woke, it was once more to the sound of an argument, albeit a much calmer one.

"Where's my t.v., then?" a whimsical voice questioned.

"Your what?" the elderly nurse replied.

"My t.v. If I'm this is a hospital like you say it is, then shouldn't I have a t.v.?"

Santana opened her eyes to find Brittany sitting up in bed—several pillows surrounding her to prop her upright. She sat up slowly, feeling her bones crack satisfyingly as she stretched. Her left pinky was still laced with Brittany's, and she couldn't help but wonder if the other girl could even feel it with her injuries.

"What's going on?" Santana managed through a yawn.

Brittany gave her a weak smile, "I woke up in this strange place, feeling like I got run over by a monster truck, with this old lady claiming she was a nurse and that I was in the hospital wing. So, I said, if I am really in a hospital, like she claims, then shouldn't there be a t.v.?"

"I don't know what that is," the nurse insisted to Santana.

"A television," Santana replied before focusing back on Brittany. "Britt, you're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. They can't have televisions here because there is too much magic. Electronics just won't work. Actually, most wizards around here don't even know what a t.v. is, but I guess things are different where you're from."

It was true. If it weren't for her father's need to connect with the Muggle world for his job, Santana, herself, probably wouldn't know what a television was. As it were, though, they had a t.v. in one of their sitting rooms as well as in her father's office and Brad's living quarters—he was a game show enthusiast. She even had received such things as an ipod and video game system from her father's colleagues at the Muggle hospital as birthday gifts.

"But why am I here?" Brittany asked, pale eyebrows knitted together as she grasped for understanding. "And why do I feel like shit?"

The nurse coughed indignantly. Santana ignored her.

"You don't remember?" she asked carefully.

Brittany started to shake her head, but winced in pain.

Santana quickly stood, but Brittany waved her off with her good hand, so she sat back down, watching her closely, "Do you remember playing in the Quidditch match yesterday?"

"No," she replied after a moment. "I remember getting dressed for it and walking out onto the field, but that was it. How did I do?"

"Britt, you were brilliant," Santana gushed. "I've never seen anything like it, and I've been watching Quidditch since I was born. You were so good…too good…" Santana paused a moment before continuing, "You put Gryffindor up by a lead so high, that even if they caught the snitch, Slytherin would still lose."

"That's the little gold golf ball, right?"

"Right," Santana nodded. "So, the Slytherin beaters decided to take matters into their own hands by making sure you wouldn't return to the game. It was dirty, and low, and trust me, they paid for what they did."

"Did we win?" Brittany asked, her eyelids drooping heavily.

"I—" Santana paused short of saying she didn't know. Truth was, she knew. She knew that the remaining Gryffindor team did not stand a chance against the Slytherin players. "No, Slytherin won."

"Buttheads," Brittany muttered, her eyes closing as she fell back asleep with a slight pout on her lips.

Santana turned to the nurse worriedly.

"It's okay," the elder woman assured. "She's going to need a lot of rest for the next few days. Perhaps while she rests, you should go grab a bite to eat and clean up a bit, hm?"

"I'm not leaving her alone," Santana stated protectively.

"She won't be alone," a voice behind Santana responded.

Santana didn't have to turn to know that it was Quinn who was approaching.

"Go, eat and take a shower. You look like hell and you smell even worse. I'll be here," Quinn ascertained as she took the empty seat beside her.

Santana nodded, reluctantly letting go of Brittany's pinky as her stomach growled angrily.

"Go on," Quinn urged.

"Thanks," Santana replied, slowly backing away. "Q?"

"You were right. Slytherin won."

Santana nodded once more before making her way out of the hospital wing, but not without a final glance at Brittany to make sure the girl was still sleeping soundly.

+++gw+++

When Brittany woke again later that afternoon, it was in tears. Santana immediately yelled for the nurse who could not come fast enough.

"I-I don't know what happened," Santana shook her head as the nurse pushed her aside. A loud cry from Brittany made her own eyes water.

"The pain draught has worn off," the nurse explained. "I couldn't give it to her while she was sleeping, and she's been sleeping all day."

"San," Brittany whimpered before groaning heavily.

"I'm right here, Britt," Santana immediately stepped back to the bed. "I didn't go anywhere. See, I'm right here." She reached out, taking the smaller girl's pinky once more. "I know it hurts, but it's going to be okay. The old kook here is going to make the pain go away, okay?"

Brittany whimpered again, and Santana started to shake.

"Okay now, Brittany, I need you to drink this all," the nurse informed, her voice gentle as she raised a goblet to Brittany's mouth, carefully pouring the clear liquid down her throat. "There you go, that's a good girl."

As the draught disappeared, Brittany's whimpers subsided. By the time the drink was gone, her eyes were closed, and the tiny blonde was asleep once more. Santana collapsed into the chair with a tired sigh. The nurse gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by on her way back to her office.

+++gw+++

The next day found Brittany sitting up in bed with less pillows as Quinn broke the full story on the Quidditch match.

"After you had been taken out, it did not take long for the Slytherin chasers to score, putting them in a position to win once the chaser caught the snitch. Which he did, barely ten minutes later."

Brittany's bottom fell into a pout.

"I'm sorry, Brittany," Quinn admitted with reluctance. "You…you deserved to win that match."

Santana's eyebrows flew up in surprise from where she sat across the bed, her pinky linked with Brittany's just above her cast.

"What? I may not be Little Miss Queen of Quidditch like you, but I can spot a talented player just as easily as the next person."

Santana chuckled, looking back at Brittany, "Which does raise the question of, where did you learn to fly like that?"

"It's just like riding a bike," Brittany shrugged her good shoulder.

"You mean your parents let you fly by yourself before you came here?" Santana questioned. "Man, my mum would've flipped if my dad ever let me fly alone."

"What does that have to do with riding a bike?"

Santana opened her mouth to reply, but didn't know what to say, so she glanced at Quinn who just shrugged.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Too bad I didn't have this thing for the match," Brittany said thoughtfully as she waved her cast around. "I could've used it as a shield…hey, they should totally let us use real shields!"

"Slow down there, young knight," Santana chuckled, carefully lowering Brittany's arm back down into its sling as they walked down the dank hallway. "Madame Langcaster said you have to take it easy for a little while or else you'll end up back in the hospital wing."

Brittany's bottom lip jutted out softly, but Santana could see from the sheen of sweat already decorating the smaller girl's forehead and the winces she hadn't been able to hide during her brief endeavor into knighthood that the nurse's orders were sound ones.

"Wait," Quinn held a hand up to halt them as they stopped before the bare stone wall. "Is it safe to bring her in there?"

"What do you mean? I hang out in you guys' house all the time," Brittany reminded.

"I think she means because of the match," Santana explained. "But there shouldn't be a problem. They know better than to mess with her while we're there."

"Why would they mess with me?"

"I know this may be odd coming from my mouth, but I think you may be overestimating our power a bit. Yes, we do have our entire year and even some in the older years at our beckon call, but we are still a couple of first years when it comes down to it," Quinn admitted.

Santana frowned, "I didn't know Fabrays were the type to bend to a little pressure."

Quinn glared at her.

"I'm just saying," she shrugged. "I am a Lopez. I'm not about to run scared from my own house. I'm going to walk in there like I own it because I do. And if they have something to say about Brittany being with me, which I highly doubt thanks to my little revenge operation, but if they do, then I'm going to let them know just where they can stick their opinions. If you want to be in a position on top, then you have to be willing to take it and knock aside anybody that dares to get in the way, and what better way to show that we are above all of them than to show up in there with Brittany as if we couldn't care less what they think and are just going to do what we want, anyway?"

"You may have a point…" Quinn admitted reluctantly.

"Slytherin for the win," Brittany stepped forward and recited the password, taking both of the other girls by surprise.

"How do you always know our password, but never your own?" Quinn asked as the hidden stone door slid open.

"You're okay with hanging out in here, right?" Santana glanced at the sickly looking yellow bruise around Brittany's eye.

"I don't see what the big deal is. You two are acting as if somebody's going to attack me or something," Brittany replied.

"Have you forgotten about the match?" Quinn questioned pointedly.

"No. Slytherin won," Brittany frowned. "But that means that because you guys beat us, if Slytherin and Gryffindor win all our remaining games, then Slytherin wins the cup. And since the only ones that know that I'm not allowed to finish out the season are us and the nurse, wouldn't the Slytherins _want_ me to heal up and remain in one piece for the rest of the season? "

"But you are not allowed to play for the remainder of the season."

"They don't know that."

"That's true," Quinn realized in shock.

"This is why you're the brains of the operation," Santana smiled as they walked through the opening.

"And here I thought I was the looks," Brittany noted.

Santana couldn't stop the warm laugh that spilled forth from her mouth at Brittany's deadpan comment, causing a few confused glances to be thrown her way. She set her jaw and raised a daring eyebrow, smirking as the onlookers quickly turned back to their school work. "Yea, you definitely have nothing to worry about Britt."

"So cool," Brittany smiled. "So what all did I miss?"

"Thanks to the weekend, you only missed a few days of class," Quinn pointed out as she sat down on one of the chairs in the center of the stony room, her legs crossing delicately at her ankles.

"Professor Bletheim passed in History of Magic this morning," Santana chuckled as she stretched out on the sofa.

"She doesn't have History of Magic with us," Quinn reminded.

"So? It was still funny," Santana waved her off before scooting up the sofa to give Brittany more room as she sat gingerly at her feet. "The bag of bones fell asleep standing up at the front of the class. She knocked her dentures out on the podium and still didn't wake up."

"I thought she had died," Quinn admitted.

"I would say it's too bad she hadn't because then we wouldn't have to hear her drone on and on every day, but knowing her, she'd still show up to lecture, dead or not."

"Ghost teacher," Brittany smiled tiredly as her head tilted to the side, resting against the back of the sofa. "What about ghost student? A genius ghost baby would be awesome."

"What?" Quinn questioned. "I think you may need to slow down on that pain draught the nurse gave you. She did say use it sparingly."

Santana's eyebrows furrowed together as she studied Brittany thoughtfully before replying, "It doesn't work like that."

"Just because your father is a doctor—" Quinn began.

"I wasn't talking to you," Santana rolled her eyes, sitting up more. "I meant the genius ghost baby. You meant like if a ghost could teach, then could it go to school, right?"

Brittany nodded.

"Then based off that, genius ghost baby," she continued. "But just like ghosts bodies don't age, their brains don't age either. Ghosts can read and can learn, but only as much as their brain will allow. A baby ghost would forever be stuck in that mindset of drools and monosyllable words."

"That's sad."

"It is," Santana agreed before shaking the morbid thought of being forever stuck in that stage out of her head. She watched as a soft spark in Brittany's eyes broke through the sadness. "What?"

"Nobody's ever done that before."

"Done what?"

"Understood me…or even tried to."

"Oh, well, your question made sense," Santana shrugged, her cheeks warming. "Anyway, I got your potions homework for you."

"Since when do we have homework in that class?"

"Brittany, we have had homework in Potions since the first week," Quinn pointed out with a sigh. "I take it we can rule running an apothecary off the list of your future jobs."

"What does indifference have to do with potions?"

Quinn shook her head, pulling a novel out of her robes and sitting back in her chair to begin reading.

The grating sound echoing through the common room signaled the secret door opening, and Santana took in Brittany's wince at the noise. She didn't even want to begin to imagine how much worse the sound was in Brittany's still tender head.

"They really need to take care of that," Santana frowned.

"I have some WD-40 in my trunk," Brittany offered, blue eyes opening once more, though with each blink her eye lids seem to open less and less.

"Announcement," Professor Sylvester's voice made Santana sit up straight. The professor walked briskly to the notice board, attached a piece of paper to it, and turned, meeting Santana's eyes for a moment before walking out of the common room without another word.

"Well?" Quinn's soft voice raised just enough to be heard by the others in the room. "Isn't anyone going to read it?"

A couple first years raced to the notice board but were beat by a third year who easily knocked the two aside. He smiled at Quinn, clearing his throat before reading, "Announcement to all those in the Slytherin House: Due to extenuating circumstances, the Slytherin House Quidditch team will be having a fresh round of try-outs next Thursday at 8pm. Positions that are looking to be filled are as follows: two beaters and one keeper. As a reminder, try-outs this year are open to ALL years…that's all it says."

Quinn went back to ignoring the other bodies in the room as her eyebrows rose amusedly at Santana, "The keeper as well? Really, Santana?"

"Call it a case of wrong time, wrong place," Santana shrugged. "He came out of the locker room to see what all the commotion was about and tried to defend those two asshats."

"Isn't it a bit late for try-outs? Plus, you guys won, why would somebody want to change the lineup?" Brittany wondered.

"That's really a question for Santana to answer," Quinn smiled at Santana.

Santana grinned, "Let's just say that Slytherin's beaters and keeper felt so horrible about what went down during the game, that they decided to take themselves out of the lineup—"

"And into the hospital wing," Quinn muttered.

Santana chuckled, "Yes, for the rest of the season. I mean, it's only fair considering you can't play for the rest of the season either."

"Don't remind me," Brittany pouted again.

"I think the more important question, though," Santana commented, patting Brittany's foot in an attempt to comfort her, "is why Professor Sylvester put that notice up instead of Coach Tanaka."

"If Slytherin's team wins, then we're all but guaranteed the House Cup," Quinn pointed out. "And everybody knows how seriously she takes the House Cup."

"True," Santana nodded, smiling as Brittany's eyes closed and remained closed this time. "Britt? Britt-Britt," she wiggled her foot gently.

"Hmm?" Brittany hummed back in response.

"We should be getting you back to your house," she replied. "The nurse said you would probably get tired easy for a few days and would be needing lots of sleep, so you should probably go ahead and head to bed."

"Good luck getting me there," Brittany replied, not opening her eyes and instead snuggling further into the back of the couch.

Santana looked to Quinn for support, but she just shrugged, turning back to her book. Santana huffed.

"Why doesn't she just sleep here for the night? I mean, she already spends more time here than most actual Slytherins, and it'll be a hell of a lot easier than trying to get her back up to her own house," Quinn finally offered.

"I vote for Quinn's idea," Brittany gave a small nod. "I call the couch."

"No," Santana rolled her eyes as she stood. "You are not going to sleep on the couch; there's no way you're going to get the good night's sleep that you need there. Come on, you can sleep in my bed."

"Slumber party," Brittany smiled, reluctantly opening her eyes as Santana helped her up.

"Slumber party," Santana nodded with a giggle.

"Are we going to paint each other's nails?"

"How about we save that for next time, and this time we just focus on the slumbering, ok?"

"Ok," Brittany agreed.

Santana draped Brittany's good arm over her shoulder as she wrapped her own around the chaser's back before slowly starting up the stairs. She glanced back at the sound of someone following them and found Quinn behind them with one hand up, spotting them, the other hand holding her book up as she walked and read. Santana smiled as she turned back, refocusing on the stairs in front of her.


	11. Chapter 11

When Santana awoke, it was to a sharp pain tearing through her left shoulder. She gasped, falling onto her back from her side, gaining some relief. Her pinky had remained linked with Brittany's all night which had led to her arm being twisted behind her when she turned over in her sleep. A soft groan escaped her lips as she rubbed her sore shoulder.

Brittany was still sleeping, curled up against one of her pillows. Santana carefully slid her pinky out of Brittany's slackened grip, making sure not to disturb Brittany's casted hand. She felt beneath her own pillow, pulling out her father's pocket watch that she kept there for safe keeping while she slept. They were going to miss breakfast, and if they didn't hurry, they were going to be late for their first lessons of the day.

"Best slumber party ever," Brittany mumbled to her left.

"All we did was sleep," Santana chuckled.

"I know, but your bed is so comfy."

"You've just been cooped up in the hospital for too long to know any better."

Brittany's stomach growled loudly, "I'm hungry."

"So I hear," she smiled before glancing back at her dad's watch. "Unfortunately, we're a bit behind schedule, and we have to get you up to your dorms so you can get dressed since you're due back in class today."

"I need a shower," Brittany wrinkled her nose. "I smell like medicine and disinfectant."

"We'd better get moving then," Santana sat up and stretched before hopping out of bed and hurrying around to the other side to help Brittany out carefully.

"You act like I'm going to break," Brittany teased.

Professor Sylvester and the nurse's midnight conversation played over in Santana's mind, "I just know that if I don't help you down slowly, you'll try to jump down and cut a flip or something."

"True," she nodded. Her eyes widened, pointing over Santana's shoulder to her trunk. "Hey, look!"

Santana turned around to find her uniform lying out like normal. What wasn't normal, however, was Brittany's uniform that had been laid out right beside it. "House elves."

"Santa?" blue eyes turned electric.

"What? No, Britt, the house elves that work here must've known you slept over and brought your clothes," Santana explained, leaving out that it would save them quite a bit of time since, despite Brittany's protests otherwise, the smaller girl was still moving rather slow and gingerly. She picked up Brittany's uniform and handed it to her. "Take a left and the bathroom is the second door," Santana motioned to the door out of the room.

"Thanks," Brittany smiled, slowly making her way out of the room and taking a right.

"Your other left!" Santana called after her.

Brittany crossed back and gave her a grateful wave with her good arm.

Santana laughed, shaking her head before she started getting ready for the day as well. She looked over at Quinn's empty bed and made a mental note to give the girl a good piece of her mind for not waking them up on time.

She was sitting on her bed, hurrying through her potions homework that was due while waiting on Brittany to return when she heard a distinct pop. She looked up to find a tray of breakfast food with two forks and two goblets of juice placed where their uniforms had been previously.

"Food," Santana's mouth watered hungrily. She scrambled off the bed just as Brittany was returning to the room. "Hey, look what the elves brought," she glanced up at her with a smile before doing a double take. "Um, Brittany, I think you forgot…" Santana motioned to Brittany's shirt which lie open, none of the buttons buttoned.

"I need help," she raised her cast with a sheepish smile.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Santana nodded before hurrying over to her. She bent down and tied her shoes first before standing up and eyeing Brittany's exposed torso.

"Yeah, I know, I'm so white, I'm a ghost," Brittany rolled her eyes.

"No," Santana's cheeks warmed as she began to button her shirt for her, starting at the top. "It's just…your stomach, I mean, you don't have a stomach, I mean…you have better abs than a boy," she struggled to get out as her fingers grazed the sharply defined muscles of the other girl's abdomen.

"Oh, yeah, I think it's cause I'm so little," Brittany looked down at her stomach. "I do tend to be rather active, but I don't think it takes much since I'm so compact, you know? They probably won't be like that when I get taller which sucks cause they're awesome, right?"

"Definitely," Santana nodded her agreement as she finished buttoning her shirt and set to work on her tie. "Although, I don't think you have to worry about that getting taller thing."

Brittany narrowed her eyes playfully, "I'm going to be taller than you one day."

"Doubtful," Santana laughed as she thought of her parents' tall frames. "But look, we have breakfast."

"Awesome," Brittany bounced on her toes before letting out a squeak of pain and clutching her ribs.

"You also need to take your pain draught," Santana noted as she guided her over to the food before hurrying to the bedside table and retrieving the container of liquid medicine.

"Not so awesome," Brittany grimaced.

+++gw+++

Santana sat on the edge of her seat as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Henri St. Pierre, wrote the words _Smokescreen Spell_ in white chalk on the board. Thus far in the class, all they had learned was how to light and extinguish their wands, as well as how to shoot up red and green sparks—things Professor St. Pierre insisted were important when it came to staving off dark wizards and creatures, though Santana couldn't see how, unless the dark wizard in question was epileptic and she rapidly lit and extinguished her wand over and over again until the wizard succumbed to a seizure.

Santana tilted her head at her own thoughts, wondering whether that was actually a good defense or her thoughts were merely permanently scattered from navigating their way through so many of Brittany's unmethodical conversations.

"It is about time we learn something useful," Quinn noted as she took down the spells name in her notes.

"I know what you mean," Rachel voiced from the table behind them. "What am I supposed to do with red and green sparks? The only time those colors don't clash is during Christmas, a holiday which I don't even celebrate, seeing as I am Jewish. Now, if we were to learn how to shoot gold stars, then that would be something I could use. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I have begun using a gold star as a metaphor for—"

Santana turned in her chair and shot a stream of green sparks at the brunette, causing Rachel to shriek and duck her head in cover.

"Happy Early Christmas," Santana smirked before turning back in her chair.

"Nice," Quinn smiled, pulling her own wand out and standing as Professor St. Pierre instructed them to spread out through the room and being practicing the spell.

"The desired result is a cloud of smoke so thick that it prevents your opponent from being able to aim properly _and_ can give you cover to escape. Being this is your first time performing this spell, though, I will award ten points to whichever student can manage to achieve at least a steady wisp of smoke."

Santana followed Quinn to the far corner of the large classroom where the blonde waved her wand in concentration, frowning when nothing came out.

"You would think this would be easy, seeing as there is not even an incantation to go with it."

"Wouldn't that make it harder?" Santana wondered. "Saying spells helps you focus your intent on the spell. Without the words, you need to focus even more, otherwise your wand would be cursing people left and right with any little flit and flicker of your wrist."

Quinn's frown deepened.

"Your hatred for me outsmarting you is delicious," Santana chuckled as she waved her wand, with the same result as Quinn.

They kept swapping turns until there was only ten minutes left of class and a slight sheen of sweat had begun to form on Santana's brow.

"This is stupid," Quinn muttered in frustration.

"Look class!" Professor St. Pierre called out in excitement. "Mr. Abrams has managed to produce smoke."

The girls looked to find the tiny boy in the wheelchair adjusting his glasses nervously as a thin wisp of light gray smoke escaped from the tip of his wand.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw," Professor St. Pierre clapped, the Ravenclaws in the room joining in.

"Stupid Ravenclaw nerds," Quinn folded her arms over her chest.

Santana narrowed her eyes, a low growl of frustration forming in her throat as she waved her wand once more, rotating it in a spiral of movement, causing Quinn to jump back as a small stream of dark gray smoke emitted from Santana's wand.

"Whoa, Miss Lopez," Professor St. Pierre paused in shock. "Well done. Extremely, well done. That may well be the best smokescreen I've ever seen a First Year produce. Congratulations, fifteen points to Slytherin!"

Her fellow Slytherin First Years cheered.

Santana raised her steely gaze from the tip of her wand to the small boy in the wheelchair, gaining satisfaction from the way he shrunk back under her stare,

Professor St. Pierre dismissed the class, and the light layer of smoke dissipated from the room. Santana's eyes widened as she watched Artie wheel himself out of the room.

"Earth to Lopez," Quinn waved her hand in front of Santana's face. "Class is over."

"Quinn…" Santana began slowly, still trying to complete the thought forming in her mind. "About that thing our parents have us looking into…"

"Well, it is about time you regain focus. With Brittany in the hospital wing, it was as if you completely forgot our mission," Quinn noted with a huff.

"The rumor is about how the baby might have survived," Santana voiced. "What if the baby did survive, but…but what if he didn't escape unharmed."

Quinn's backpack fell from her shoulder as her eyes followed Santana's gaze to the door where Artie had just wheeled out of. "Oh."

+++gw+++

"So how was Transfiguration?" Santana asked as she finally diced up the light blue petals of aconite that lay in front of her. She pushed them across the table to where Brittany was seated instead of at her usual spot to Santana's right. When Santana had pointed out to Professor Sylvester that Brittany could only do so much when it came to the preparation of today's assignment due to her injuries, the professor had surprisingly agreed with Santana and allowed her to help the Gryffindor.

Brittany scooped up the flower with her good hand and dropped them into Santana's cauldron as Santana set to work on Brittany's pile. "Rough," she grimaced. "Even with Mercedes and Kurt bringing me the assignments for the classes we don't have together—"

"Which I still stay I could have gotten."

"Different classes sometimes get different assignments."

"When did they drop off those assignments anyway? I never saw them in the hospital wing."

"Because they would only come when you were in class or sleeping."

"You make it sound like they were avoiding me," Santana chuckled as she passed her the rest of the aconite.

"They were," Brittany nodded as she dumped them into her own cauldron. "Rumor has it that you became really upset when those beaters ran into me—"

"Attacked you. They attacked you, Brittany," Santana corrected firmly.

"Well, it seems that a lot of people have been steering clear of you since they attacked me and you stormed out of the stadium in what is being called a 'blind fury' by Kurt. Especially after those very beaters ended up in the hospital wing as well later that evening…" Brittany raised a pointed eyebrow before drawing in a sharp breath and bringing her left hand up to gingerly touch the crimson bandage around her forehead.

Santana's eyes widened in worry, before her fists clenched in anger at the reminder of her encounter with the Gryffindor Quidditch team members. "Well? When they pulled what they did, what do you expect?"

"From you…nothing less," Brittany reached over to briefly cover Santana's hand with her own, her eyes dancing in amusement and pride.

Santana settled back into her chair, "Well, you can tell Mercedes and Kurt that they aren't the Gryffindors I've got it in for."

"I'm sure Kurt will sleep better for it. He's developed quite the eye baggage that even his favorite face cream won't remedy," Brittany nodded, causing them both to giggle. "Anyway, yeah, even with their help, I still find Transfiguration impossible. How can I concentrate on switching a snail with a mouse when there are so many better things I could be switching it with? Like that treacle tart I just know is in the kitchens for the big Halloween feast."

Santana smiled, "Britt, the feast isn't until tomorrow. I doubt they already have the dessert made."

"A girl can dream, can't she?"

Santana subconsciously stiffened as she felt Professor Sylvester approach to inspect their homework. The professor held her hand out to Brittany who just shrugged in reply. Professor Sylvester rolled her eyes and extended her hand out to Santana instead. Santana handed her the essay that lie waiting on the desk. She knew it wasn't her best. It wasn't even half that. She had spent too much time in the hospital wing over the past week, leaving very little for her actual school work. She winced in preparation for the scalding remark that was surely headed her way.

"Nicely done, Lopez," Professor Sylvester said simply before placing the parchment back down on the table with a red 'A' now adorning it.

Santana caught herself just before the forthcoming question about the grade left her mouth. Instead, she quickly tucked the homework into her book bag before the professor came to her senses.

"See? I knew she'd come around," Brittany whispered with a smile as Professor Sylvester moved to the next table.

"Brittany, that essay was my worst yet. I didn't even finish it. The grade doesn't make any sense."

"Most grades don't make sense to me," Brittany replied as she slowly stirred Santana's cauldron counter-clockwise.

"If it helps, I'm sure your assignments and answers don't make much sense to the Professors. The Magic World's dependence on tradition is not exactly an accommodating place for people who think outside the box. Plus, I swear, the majority of professor's here have no idea what the heck they are talking about."

"You know what they say, 'If you can't do, teach'."

Santana laughed loudly at that, quickly bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle the noise. Once their nosy neighbors' wondering eyes and ears had returned to their tables, Santana scooted even closer to her own and lowered her voice once more, "So I think I may have stumbled upon something in our search for you-know-who's victim."

"A clue?"

"A suspect. What do you know about Artie Abrams?"

"Who?"

"The robot boy."

"Oh, not much…he kinda scares me," Brittany admitted. "Why?"

"Well, he's in Ravenclaw, so of course he's smart, but he also seems pretty adept when it comes to spells."

"Like the letter said to look for," Brittany nodded.

"And maybe the wheelchair is a result from the attack?"

Brittany's eyes widened, "Spells can do that?"

"Spells can do anything."

Brittany nodded, chewing her lip thoughtfully, "It makes sense. A lot of sense. You know what I think?"

"What?"

"That you can outsmart a Ravenclaw any day of the week," Brittany replied surely.

Santana smiled, lowering her eyes back down to the potion ingredients before her as her cheeks warmed.


End file.
